Forget About the Sunshine
by LoveIsATemple
Summary: Klaroline following episodes 5x11, 12, 13. A series of 10 drabble/one-shots ranging from 'Klaus breaking his promise' to 'Rebekah asking Nik why he's so goddamned happy after returning from Mystic Falls.' * More information inside *
1. In the Dark

**A/N 1: **_I recently fell madly in love with Klaroline and found this fan website (Klarolinemagazine dot com) that had a list of the Ten Drabbles they'd like to see after the last few episodes of TVD because of all the angsty sadness/hotness/heartbreakingness. I've taken it as a challenge to write all ten of them and this is number one - **Klaus and Caroline run into each other in the future outside of both Mystic Falls and New Orleans without meaning to**. I don't really think that this one can be considered drabble (as it is over four thousand words) and it's probably really awful because I've never even tried to write anything for Klaroline and I've never dealt with writing drabble. I'm a wordy person. But this is number one in a set of ten (and I will probably rewrite this first one a different way as a bonus if people enjoy these enough) so I hope my skills at writing these characters and writing in less words will get better. It's rated M but this may not seem too M rated. I'm saving that for a few down the road._

_Please read and review if you feel like it! It would be wonderful if you told me what you thought! Especially if it's saying you want more. Thank you so much in advance and I hope it's not written too horribly! _

* * *

**"But if happiness won't come to me, hand me the nitrous gas. **

**You can keep all of your oxygen, hand me the nitrous gas. **

**And if happiness won't live with me, I think I can live with that. **

**You can keep all of your oxygen, hand me the nitrous gas."**

**Nitrous Gas | Frightened Rabbit**

* * *

**Drabble # 1 (of 10) | In the Dark**

Caroline loved that one moment in the movie theatre just before the film started when the whole room went soul-hauntingly black. She could sense everyone's fear then, almost hear their thoughts. The sweat that leaked through the pores in their skin smelled sweet and the blood boiling within their veins called to her like a siren's song.

She came to the theatre often. Never for a movie. Just so she could pretend for a moment that any one of the people in the room could be her next prey. Pretend she was a heartless killer. Pretend she was that-guy-she-was-never-to-think-about-ever-ever-never.

The ritual calmed her aching canines, but in that blackness, that extreme, utter darkness, the ripples of veins came out to play under her eyes and it took all her strength, the strength she'd been building for years on end, not to turn her head and sink her teeth into the person next to her's throat. No matter how well their blood sang, she couldn't become that person.

She'd bought a ticket for the first movie she saw up on the board tonight. Some fantasy flick she'd seen advertised on television. Big star, big budget, probably shitty and not worth the nearly twenty bucks it cost for a ticket. D.C. had a serious problem with making everything way too goddamned expensive.

Caroline found a seat somewhere in the middle of the gargantuan room. The chairs were cushioned and had no cup holders. They'd stopped selling drinks and snacks a couple of years ago at movie theaters because they promoted "unhealthy habits" or some crap like that. God, had the world spiraled out of control.

People milled in behind her, some sitting far down and others going way up. She tried not to look around, but she couldn't ever help herself when there was so much blood and sweat all in one room.

Some were nervous, their first dates strapped to their arms like they'd been in love forever. She liked those ones. The nervous ones. They smelled the best. Like kindness and sugar.

Others were angry. At their spouses, their bosses, the world. At the baby late at night who won't stop screaming. At the woman threatening to out their secret relationship.

Barely any were happy. She could sense one happy person in the area. They gave off an illustrious glow of sunny light and if Caroline breathed in at just the right moment, she could smell the coffee and hope. The scent made her sick.

Someone sat next to her and she automatically moved her wrist of the chair arm, instead clasping her hands in her lap. The lights dimmed and Caroline watched the screen burst to life, the trailers and random car commercials bringing excitement to the dull theatre.

Several minutes, painstaking minutes of sweat and boiling blood, past until finally the lights switched off.

_Six seconds._

It always lasted for six glorious seconds.

Caroline closed her eyes.

Her brain went haywire. Her smile disintegrated.

There was a lingering scent in the air, a different one than she was used to. It wasn't human. It was dangerous. Like death had crawled into the air vents and was blowing specifically over the blonde vampire in the middle of the movie theatre.

_Five seconds. _

But there was something underneath the imminent threat, something familiar.

_Four seconds_.

Whatever it was, it was blocking everything else. The strangest perfume, clouding her nostrils, assaulting them. Her head was going fuzzy. Her belly was pinching.

_Three seconds. _

The body next to her spilled some candy. It was loud and bouncy: skittles, maybe M&Ms.

Caroline's pulse started to twitch.

_Two seconds._

Nothing was working right. Not inside her body. Not outside. She'd stopped breathing, thinking, moving. Her heart was squeezing itself dry.

_One second._

Her breath came out in one whoosh of a syllable, "Klaus."

A bomb of light exploded in front of her eyes as the film started up.

An action sequence with guns and loud bangs, scraping feet, screaming women, spaceships, aliens, monsters. Caroline blinked, finally. Her eyes were dry, but a wet streak (it must be a tear) hit her lip. Salty. She ran a shaky hand through her hair, letting the curls bounce and flow down her bare shoulders.

She didn't dare turn her head. Both men either side of her seemed intent on watching the film, their large bodies blocking most of her view.

Her head struggled to come up with a plan. She needed to get out of there, to escape from the temptation. From death itself.

In frustration, she turned her head and faced the man on her right. "Could you move, please?" She asked, not bothering to be sweet. He smirked at her, moving his legs back to allow her room for escape. Caroline stood up quick, grabbing her purse and starting her walk. Something grabbed her hand back. She whipped around, a growl bubbling in her throat.

"What do I get?" The burly man asked. He smelled like smoke and booze.

Caroline yanked her hand back. "You get two seconds to stop looking at me before I rip your fucking head off." He turned around with a frightened huff, but Caroline couldn't find it in herself to be pleased with the amount of strength in her voice.

She clambered over feet, tripping a little bit, and scrambled toward the exit. Her mind had taken to remembering everything about the last encounter she had with _him_. The tense air that surrounded them as he swore he'd never bother her again. That sensation of drowning as she looked in his eyes that had darkened considerably with lust. The shakiness in her as she spoke, telling him at last what she wanted; telling herself for the first time, admitting to herself, that _he _was what she wanted.

Knowing that she was never going to see him again - he didn't seem like the type to turn back on his word, especially with her - unlocked something inside of her. And then she had pounced. And it had felt so good, so uncharacteristically mind-blowing. Literally, she thought her head was going to explode with all the goodness.

Bark scraping against her back, Klaus' own fingers dancing along her body like he wanted to commit every dip of her skin to memory, the smirks he gave whenever he'd elicit some obscenity from her tongue.

The clean up had been the worst part. Not awkward, but heated. Like they were angry at each other.

He hadn't even spared her a glance as he ran away, quick as a lighter running high on gasoline.

The red glowing exit sign, her saving grace, met her with open arms and she slammed out of the theatre, running ever so slightly through the crowds of people bustling to get to their boring, overpriced movie.

Outside it was warm, summer approaching the city life of D.C. fast. A gentle breeze blew past Caroline and she tried to find a quick route to get home, swiveling her head left and right before deciding a path that would help her move at her superhuman speed without being noticed by the prying eyes of politicians and people who thought they knew too much about the world.

Feet ready to go, traffic lights blinking red orange green, horns blaring, cell phone arguments, flipping off, cursing, kisses, shouts, screams. Murderers, rapists, hackers, thieves, their victims all scrambling inside of Caroline when she felt him.

_Him. _

Caroline stayed perfectly still, the thrumming of her heart and the rushing of blood inside her veins the only things moving. Every bit of her was telling her, shouting at her, to turn around and face him. The aching in her belly, her core, it was practically pulling her around on its own. But she fought against it. She had to. It took her whole brain, the thing scientists believed weren't being used to their full power, to not look at him.

He was bad. He was evil. He was everything that was wrong in the world, in her world.

And she knew that if she had even the slightest glimpse of his face, his dimpled, scruffy face, she'd be putty in his hands. And he'd be an all too willing sculptor.

"Hello, love."

She wasn't prepared for his voice. Or his choice of words. He sounded gruff and excited, but pleasantly surprised.

And that was all it took to snap her brain in half. She turned, expecting to see a smirk and bright eyes. What met her, though, was the most sexually fueled scowl her head had ever had to take in. They stared at each other for what felt like a millennium, but was closer to seconds in reality.

Finding her voice, Caroline tried to calm her nerves, "Klaus."

A small smirk played at his lips and Caroline had a hard time dragging her eyes away from it. "Again with the name. I'm beginning to think you missed me."

In years past, the arrogance and suggestiveness in his voice would have turned Caroline off. Or at least she'd tell herself it turned her off. Now, it'd been thirty years and she realised that yes, she had in fact missed this man.

Stubbornness proved futile as he stepped closer, Caroline could now feel his breath washing over face, blowing at her hair, attacking her mind. She inhaled discreetly and her eyes nearly fluttered shut when she caught a stronger whiff of what had plagued her in the theatre. Pine needles, desire, and man. All Klaus.

He bent his head forward a bit, gauging her reaction. She could see a fire starting behind his eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest, absentmindedly giving him a better view of her chest.

His mouth quirked up into a wolfish grin.

Something, something brought on by the childish glint in his eye, broke Caroline out of her stupor and the next thing she knew, because her mind was not working well enough to proofread her own actions, her hand slapped hard across Klaus' face.

Unprepared for the violent attack, Klaus yelped and Caroline faintly noticed a few people's heads turned to watch the outbreak of entertainment unfolding before their very bodies. Klaus stood with one hand rubbing at his reddening cheek. Soothing her own aching hand, Caroline stared up at him like she was twice his size.

Klaus laughed sheepishly and shook his head. Caroline bit back a sigh and an eye role.

"Okay, look," he said through random spurts of chuckling. Caroline started tapping her foot, burying the temptation deep within her. "I have to be honest here. I wasn't looking for you."

Caroline scoffed. "Why do I find that so hard to believe?"

"Because you like to think you know me," he answered calmly.

"No, I don't think. I one hundred percent know you, Niklaus. Always popping up when least expected, toying with the poor heart of your long lost lover."

"Just happen to be in town, love. Had no intention of running into you ever again."

"Ever?" Caroline asked, failing to keep the helplessness out of her tone.

"I promised I'd stay away, didn't I?" Klaus' face had warmed considerably, the red mark fading fast from his cheek.

Suddenly, looking at him was too much. His bright eyes, the curly locks atop his head, the smooth muscle poking through the fabric of his shirt. It brought on too many painful memories. He was the bad guy. Not the good guy. The devil, not the angel. Hades himself, ruler of the underworld.

So why was she having such a hard time convincing herself of that? Was it because when they'd slept together thirty years ago, when he slid into her and she gasped and cried out his name in shock and want and something so similar to love, she'd felt some connection to him? Like a telepathic link between them telling her that he was more of an angel to her than the angels were to God himself?

Caroline turned away, wrapping her arms around her waist, and let out a frustrated sigh.

"Are you angry with me, love?" He asked and she shook her head, letting her chin connect with her chest. "Are you angry with me, Caroline?" He was behind her now, whispering secret messages in her ear, filling her head with lust and an itching to spend the rest of her life with him. She shook her head again.

"Then why the long face?"

She scraped her chin just slightly, opening up her neck so she could glance at him over her shoulder. "You."

"Me," he agreed, less slyly than he could have.

Her body shifted more, half facing him now. "Why should I believe you?"

"Do you really want me to go even if I had been searching for you?"

Caroline took those few extra steps to get right in front of him and braced the palms of her hands on the softness of his grey t-shirt. She shook her head again.

..1..

She believed he hadn't been looking for her. He didn't even know where she lived. Maybe he was lying, but Caroline meant it when she said she knew him. He wouldn't lie to her like that.

They didn't speak as they rushed to her apartment near the outskirts of the city, remaining completely silent as their shoes squeaked wetly along the steps of the apartment building. His hand didn't try to close around hers and she refused to spare him anymore glances.

No awkwardness, just trepidation. Caroline assumed that thirty years didn't mean much when you'd been alive for over a thousand, but to her, thirty years meant so much. She'd seen the people she loved fall victim to disease and drugs and alcohol and time. Her poor heart held the weight of a thousand lifetimes, while Klaus' bore the world of a thousand broken lies.

Her rusty handle clicked when the door to her apartment opened and she trailed inside, expecting Klaus to follow. Then she laughed. A rueful thing. Klaus smiled at her.

"Right, how could I forget. I don't make it a point to invite many vampires over. You may come in, Klaus." But he wouldn't move. "I said you can come in, Klaus. Don't be shy. I don't bite."

Bracing his hands on the doorjamb, Klaus looked her over. "Oh, I have the scars to prove that you bite, Caroline."

A little jolt of pleasure washed over her as she remembered when he'd asked her, begged her really, to sink her fangs into his shoulder that time in the woods. She blushed, walking over to him and placing a hand on his cheek. The warmth of his skin surprised her and she allowed a little bit of her ice to melt away.

"You can come in, Klaus," she whispered.

He bowed his head into her touch and closed his eyes. "I know I can, love. Caroline," he corrected himself, his lips brushing her palm with every word. "But I'm afraid I'll never want to leave if I allow myself to step over this threshold."

Pain. He was in pain. She saw it engulfing him in flames of torture. The final straw. The last puzzle piece. Check mate. Game, set, match.

Caroline's inhibitions flew out the door behind Klaus and she leaned in, stopping just short of reaching his lips, willing for him to open his eyes. As if he could read her mind, which she wouldn't doubt he could, she saw his darkening irises watch her carefully. And then she took the plunge, her entire body giving up and giving in to every sensation, every memory, every flirty word and glance, every touch, kiss, loving embrace.

They staggered back and Caroline heard her door slam as she tripped over something and landed on her sofa. Their kiss didn't break as he started ripping at her clothes, tearing her shirt off the same way he had against a tree thirty years ago, only this time with more zealous and need and hurt. Her bra went next, then her flimsy skirt and underwear. She tore at his clothing and it ripped to the floor, a pile forming of all their lost clothes and apprehension.

A thumb flicked her nipple and she arched her back into Klaus' touch, his mouth moving down her neck and allowing her to release a whimper. He smiled against the smoothness of her collarbone and she scraped her fingernails up his back, blood tickling down and pooling at the waist of his jeans. He shivered, continuing to pay attention to her chest while Caroline numbly tried to get his jeans off. She got the belt off and the pants halfway down before she heard Klaus growl and step away from her for a second before he was back, naked.

Sex was easy if Caroline didn't think about it. If all it was was two consenting adults trying to get something pleasurable out of the horrid world they just barely survived in. There was a bit of a connection, a spark of something, and then it was over. She'd tumble with her partner, whoever he happened to be, before they picked up their things and never saw each other again. Sex was easy. Unless it was with Klaus.

Foreplay had been their thing back in the woods, she remembered it vividly. The way his fingers scraped up her thigh, landing in a pool of want. How he'd pushed those same fingers up and up until she was screaming so loud the birds in the trees whistled away. Then he'd started to play with her breasts, lathering them in his saliva, leaving his mark on her. He laughed every time she jerked her head and she smiled at him then, letting him have his fun until she could get her hands on him. He'd been less willing to let her take control, but he'd submitted soon enough, joking about being the lamest alpha male on the planet.

Now, though, nothing was playful. It was all angst ridden and humorless and needy. He had her writhing at his touch before he even got to her aching core.

This wasn't sex.

It wasn't sex when he climbed over her, not when he looked her in the eye and said so many things without moving his lips, or when he bit his chapped bottom lip, holding her hip with one hand and himself with the other, and braced himself at her entrance. It wasn't just sex when Klaus cried out 'I'm sorry' and Caroline heard his plea for forgiveness, for everything; for torturing her and her friends, for breaking her and Tyler up, for loving her without knowing how because he'd always viewed love as this killing machine much deadlier than even himself, for sweeping her up inside of him and holding her captive.

This was something so much more. Not mating, not intercourse, not even passionately driven lovemaking.

It was hatred, abandonment, need, overwhelming want, thirst, taking, giving. It was coming home after being away for too long. It was tears of love dripping onto her face and splashing with her own salty weeping.

Klaus stayed above her the whole time, keeping his eyes locked on hers, as he moved and moved and moved. She smoothed her hands everywhere. His back, his chest, his stupid beaded necklaces he never seemed to take off. She landed her fingers in his hair and tugged him down so her lips could meet his. He gave into her relentless mouth and gurgled some lost words of devotion as he continued rocking in and out of her, coming almost all the way out before plunging deep.

Her cries died in his throat and when he reached between her thighs to help her along, she sunk her teeth into his bottom lip and didn't miss the way he looked at her like he'd never seen such beauty, such hope, before. Caroline tasted his blood pouring into her mouth, the sweetness landing on her tastebuds. It awakened some feral beast inside of her and she released his mouth and instead sunk her fangs into the same exact spot she had three decades ago.

That was when it all ended. When it all came to a rumbling, rolling halt. The minute her sharp teeth pinched the sensitive skin of his scars, he collapsed over her as she jerked beneath him, still lapping at his blood, letting him literally fuel her lifeline.

When she'd stopped shaking and when he'd stopped panting, when they realised what they'd done and who with, they separated. Not awkwardly, but sadly. Like it was finally all over.

They got dressed in silence. She needed new clothes and on a whim grabbed the shirt she'd stolen from him when they'd slept together the last time. Pulling it over her head, she tried to prepare herself for what came next.

Klaus was sitting on her sofa clad in only boxers, observing a few of the photographs she'd kept lying around. He was fiddling with something in his hand and Caroline slowly seated herself next to him.

"Caroline," he said quietly, as if he was afraid his voice would break if he spoke too loudly. The way he sang out her name sent a new wave of longing (dare she say love) through her and she settled her cheek on his shoulder, watching him study the random picture of her and Bonnie from when they'd last seen each other twenty one years ago.

Without looking at her, Klaus pulled her arm into his lap and began trailing lazy circles up and down her skin. Goosebumps followed his fiery trail until he got to her hand. He pressed something into it, something worn and old. He released her hand and she took a breath before opening up the slip of paper he'd given her. It was her, of course. A much more breathtaking version of herself. The her that was seen through the eyes of someone who was deeply entranced with her.

Caroline Forbes, lying on her bed in an old and oversized Henley long-sleeved shirt, clutching the fabric to her nose. Eyes closed, the look of elation playing on her face. A moment captured in time.

"I came to your window before I left to keep up my end of the bargain after that little escapade in the woods. And there you were, lying in my stolen shirt as if you'd never before worn such a magnificent piece of clothing. I wanted to tap on the window, say something witty and wonderful before I left, just to leave my mark or something," he told her, a nostalgia creeping into his words. "But you looked peaceful and content. You looked lovely," he took her hands again, gently settling them in his lap and forcing her to look at him. She saw the pain of a thousand years, a thousand deaths, in his stare. "You looked like you were in love. But you'd told me the only way you'd ever want me was if I was to leave and never come back. My poor manly brain was awfully confused because right here," he motioned to the picture, "you were definitely in love."

"I was," Caroline croaked, falling into Klaus' arms. He wrapped them protectively around her. "And I've spent years trying not to be in love . . ." she trailed off, silent sobs wracking her body.

"With me," he finished and she moved her head 'yes' against his chest. "What now?" He asked, running a hand through her golden hair.

"Now," she began against his bare chest, "you let me sleep in your arms."

Immediately, he fell back against the sofa, pulling her with two arms on to his chest, placing his hands against the small of her back as she rested her head right over the erratic beating of his heart. She could feel it, pounding against her ear, telling her that he loved her too. That this could work.

"A hummingbird," she whispered sleepily.

"Mm?"

"Your heart, it's beating a hummingbird's. Pattering on like a machine gun," she repeated his words from way too long ago like he had just said them. He had gone still beneath her and a part of her wondered if he'd fallen asleep. She felt safer admitting the next part if he weren't conscious to hear it. "You make me want to live, Klaus. You make me wish we were constantly on the verge of death, satisfied daily that we'd made it out okay. Truly, I used to think being human was mundane. And then I missed it when I became a vampire. And then, slowly, I started understanding how amazing never having to worry about death was. But then everyone started dying around me, they started leaving. And I was hit so hard with the realsitaion that living forever hurt so much more than never knowing if I was going to wake up when I fell asleep at night. You make me want to be human."

She whispered all these things to him, soaking her words through the pores in his skin, letting her warm breath and sadness soothe him. She knew he was awake, but she didn't care. It didn't matter anyway.

"Stay," she murmured, sleep ripping at her violently as she struggled to keep her eyes open, struggled to remember everything about how it felt to kiss him, touch him, taste him. It was futile, the struggle with sleep. It captured her quite like Klaus, dragging her to the depths of weird dreams and loneliness.

..1..

A stream of light woke her up. She rubbed her face tiredly as she sat up on the sofa, looking around for any signs of last night. Her clothes had been as neatly folded as they could have been, draped over the back of a chair. She stood, her legs wobbly from her activities yesterday, and made her way to the kitchen table where a piece of paper flapping in the wind being let in by an open window caught her attention.

Of course it was a sketch of her, asleep. Peaceful and alone.

Printed at the bottom, in Klaus' haunting script:

_Humanity would be worth it with you by my side, Caroline._

_Love,_

_Klaus. _

She turned the page over, feeling foolish for asking him to stay. More words, more love notes, were scrawled on the back. She knew he wouldn't. He was too prideful.

The door blew open just as her eyes scanned the rest of Klaus' empty promises.

_I've just nipped out to grab you some breakfast, love. I was thinking we could go out today. The zoo, perhaps? I hear it's wonderful. _

Caroline looked up and saw the arrogant smirk planted firmly on his perfect face.

"You're a bastard, you know that?" She asked rhetorically. He just nodded and motioned for her to sit down.

"You thought I'd abandoned you." He handed her a bagel. Sesame seed with honey almond cream cheese. Her favourite.

She scowled at him. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"Caroline, dear, I'm a changed man," he placed a hand on his chest and smiled.

"The zoo sounds great, Klaus."

"I think you can start calling me Nik now, love." He said through a mouthful of food.

She raised an eyebrow in his direction. "Oh, why?"

"Well, I deem you worthy of calling me that," he said.

"And why's that exactly?" She challenged.

"You love me. You're _in love _with me," he murmured like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Caroline caught her breath and smiled a little teasing smile. "Is that so? How do you know claim to know a thing like that, Mr. Mikaelson?"

She was caught off guard by the intensity in his eyes as he stared at her, swallowing his food and placing a gentle hand over hers. "Because," he said soothingly. "I'm so helplessly in love with you, I don't think I could survive if you didn't feel the same way."

Coughing, Caroline felt her stomach do a million somersaults. "Well then, the zoo sounds great. . .Nik."

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**A/N 2: **_Ahh! The cheese! It burns! _

_Well, that was an experience. I tried to keep up with how I thought it'd be after they split in 5x11 and then hadn't seen each other for thirty years. So, you know, all stubborn and angst-ridden. _

_"Nitrous Gas" __is one hell of a sad song, but I think that it's a good listen. Go check out Frightened Rabbit (and especially that song). I imagine that being the song that would fit with the semi-sexy scene. And the whole story (Forget About the Sunshine) is a line in an All-American Rejects song "Sunshine." _

_One down, nine to go! Thank you all for reading!_

_-LoveIsATemple_


	2. The Ex

**A/N 1: **_Here we are again! And wow! Holy hell, I did not expect nearly so much positive feedback from you guys. I cannot describe how giddy it made me whenever I found a new email telling me someone else had favourited or followed this story. It means so so much that you liked it and I can only hope this one goes over well too. It's much shorter (I'd hoped to get it under 3,000 words and I succeeded, not including the authors notes), but I hope it still reads like a good story. I'm nervous about this one, so I am crossing my fingers that you all enjoy it. Alright, here is number two - **Caroline tells Tyler on her own terms, or not at all. **I won't tell you which one I decided to go for, but I will tell you that if this thing continues to be well received, then I'll rewrite it the other way around as a bonus chapter._

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

_Again, please just enjoy this. If you do, don't be afraid to tell me. But, I am a human being with feelings, so be gentle if you didn't like what I've written. Favourite, follow, blah blah blah if you feel like it. Thank you all for your wonderfulness! _

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**"And I can tell just what you want,**

**you don't want to be alone, you don't want to be alone.**

**And I can't say it's what you know,**

**but you've known it the whole time, ****yeah, you've known it the whole time."**

**What You Know | Two Door Cinema Club**

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**Drabble # 2 (of 10) | The Ex**

Darkness was in full swing, the moon hanging over Mystic Falls like a giant spotlight. It cast a murky shadow over everything, the woods morphing from their once colourful vibrance to black and white and grey. Owls sang their annoying songs, flying overhead and landing noisily on tree branches, awakening the entire mouse population so the bird could gather its food.

It was the natural occurrence of things; the hierarchy of living. Predator versus prey.

Being in the woods, when light sprinkled through the trees and snakes slithered underfoot, their cool bellies crinkling yellowed leaves, reminded Caroline that the vampire community was not dissimilar to the other creatures that haunted her world. When time began there was a simple food chain and the entirety of the planet was forced into following its rules. The hawk devoured the copperhead to shreds, the copperhead swallowed the mouse whole, the mouse nibbled the cricket between its small, sharp teeth, and the cricket finished it all off by gargling the decaying plant. All living things did it, they all stole from another to survive. Even trees sucked the daylight out of soil. And creatures had a habit of turning on their own kind, their weaker or dying kind, when they were desperate and when their predatory instincts kicked in.

Caroline needed to remember this because if she didn't, she only ended up fearing herself. She only ended up fearing what she had become: another predator. Vampires were just trying to survive, that's why they took other people's lives away from them. She needed blood to thrive, so she took it. Less cruelly and forcefully than most vampires, but she still used her high position on the food chain to resist death, just like the hawk. She just wanted to live.

Idly, she thought of Klaus as she neared _that tree_.

A thousand years old, a monster. That's what he was. He killed for fun, because it was all a game to him. It wasn't about survival with him. Klaus possessed no heart. No moral, no little tingling sensation at the back of his neck telling him that he was evil. He was a terrible thing.

They were all the same excuses. Caroline had memorised them the night she got back from her time with the demonic hybrid. She'd laid in bed, unable to sleep, images of _him _continuously pouring into her head_._ And not the 'him' she was supposed to see, the one all her friends saw, but the sweet, lonely, romantic guy that had quite carelessly swept her off her dainty feet.

One week.

One long week since Klaus shimmied his way into her pants. Caroline couldn't tell if it was relief biting at her bones or lust.

Seven days and six nights.

Long nights full of tossing and turning and returning to that blissful, sinful moment. Every cry and feeling and emotion torturing her, filling her with utmost regret. Regret for doing it, for giving into temptation and jumping ahead of herself, and regret for making herself miserable because now she could never do it again.

Maybe, just maybe, she could. If Caroline called Klaus's name, he'd be next to her in an instant. If she sounded desperate enough, in enough pain, then he would break his word. Her throat tried opening up several times as she slashed around in her bed, her underwear being twisted by her itching hands, but she held her tongue. She had to.

She was a stubborn bitch and she hated Klaus. Or at least, that's what she told herself.

In reality, Caroline was afraid. Of everything. Because now. . .now she really knew Klaus would never return. Never grace the wooded areas surrounding Mystic Falls. Never see her again.

Those were the thoughts that haunted her, that crept into her dreams and throttled her waking hours. When she had her emotions regarding the Original vampire stored away, Klaus would leave town often, swearing never to come back, promising that he was done with the smallness of this place. And every time he sauntered off into the sunset, Caroline knew deep within her brain that he'd be returning.

As she stood underneath the hollowness of night, nothing gnawed in her belly telling her Klaus was coming back. He was gone for good.

Replaying the words he used before she'd "confessed" to him, Caroline could hear the sincerity and desperation in his voice when he swore he would leave. He was intent on keeping the promise for _one time _with her, one moment of honesty and loyalty and lost love.

What was that Oscar Wilde quote? "The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it,"? Yeah, that was it. Was that what she was doing when she let Klaus literally rip the clothes off her back? Was she trying to waver her temptation? If so, she'd done a hell of a job. Now she spent every night in the woods, her feet always finding that fucking tree.

As she stared at it now, she could almost feel her back scraping against it, her soft flesh being torn. She still had some of the marks, the tiny reminders that she'd been foolish for thinking that both: one sexcapade with Klaus Mikaelson would be enough to squash her feelings for him and also for giving herself up in the first place. Now she had constant guilt stepping on her back like a giant. Every time she'd seen Tyler this week, she'd flinched away from him, avoiding looking him in the eye. No one else knew her sorrow, her absolute frustration. Not least because no one could be trusted with the information. She didn't exactly feel comfortable admitting to everyone that she'd jumped Klaus's bones. But it also felt like a private thing, a secret shared between just two people. No part of her wanted to spill the dirty details to her friends like she used to with other guys.

Tears began welling in her eyes and she condemned herself, the hot liquid splashing to the ground, her vampiric hearing catching every droplet as it hit broken leaves. As she paid attention to the way her belly twisted around itself in agony, she missed the crunching sounds coming from behind her. It wasn't until she heard her name that she whipped around, startled by the intruder and ready, in that vulnerable moment, to snap the neck of whoever it was without thinking of the consequences.

"Caroline?" It said her name again. Her name was an old word on the shadow's lips. She knew this person. The figure stepped closer to her and she stood still, poised and ready for anything. When it took the final few feet to get to her, she recognised the person.

"Tyler?" Her body relaxed immensely as she saw him advance. And then tensed right back up.

He nodded his head. "What are you doing in the woods so late at night?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Caroline swiped at her eyes, sniffling a little bit.

"Full moon." His finger pointed up, Caroline's head followed its trail toward the sky. Up there, between the slits of branches, the moon gleamed a perfect circle.

"Oh," she sighed, feeling foolish.

Tyler smiled a little bit and took an extra step in Caroline's general direction. She looked up at saw his ghostly pale face, the hard lines of his cheek bones cut off dramatically by the moon's beams. "Now you tell me why you're here."

Searching for a reasonable answer, Caroline thought for a moment about telling him. Everything. The words were on the tip of her tongue, just waiting to tumble out in waves of bitterness and betrayal. A part of her wanted to flaunt the whole thing in his face. What a stab to the heart, eh? Sleeping with his mortal enemy. But she didn't sleep with Klaus because Tyler would be upset by it. Hell, he'd probably be tempted to kill her for it and she couldn't find it in herself to give a single fuck. She did it for herself.

"And hey," Tyler spoke again, snapping Caroline's darkening thoughts. "Why've you been avoiding me?" He raised his eyebrows, a hurt smile playing on his lips. Caroline stared blankly. "Don't try to deny it, Care. I know you and you've been avoiding me," he declared.

_Damn him. _Caroline spat in her head. She choked for an explanation, "I—you—me. . ." she trailed off, looking up at the moon and cursing its existence. "The breakup!" She half-shouted, her hand slapping over her mouth.

Tyler eyed her curiously, looking like someone just kicked his dog. _Ha. _She supposed she sounded a bit too happy about her answer.

Clearing her throat, she snapped a twig and peered up at him through her eyelashes, "I mean, it's just been riding on me. You know, the anger at you for leaving our fairly long relationship, which was already hanging out the window of a fifty thousand story building, all because of your quest for revenge. It, surprisingly, hasn't died out in just a couple weeks. Sorry for sparing you from my wrath."

"Oh," Tyler said quietly, a rush of cold air brushing over them. "That makes sense, actually. Sorry." He sounded sad. But it was his decision. He was the one who turned his back on her as she cried out for him.

A part of her, one that still held love for Tyler, pulled at her chest. She wanted to forget Klaus and run to Tyler, jump in his arms and live happily ever after. Then she looked at the tree again and her body got warm and her thoughts got sad and Tyler was momentarily forgotten until he cleared his throat.

"Do you want me to walk you home?" He questioned, shy almost.

Caroline scoffed, the sound barely moving past the knot in her throat. "No thank you, Tyler. When I want you to start walking me places again, I'll find you, but for the moment, could you spare me the guilt-ridden glances? You were the one who walked away, not me. I begged you to stay, so you can't look at me now like you're sorry about it because I just don't care right now. I'm too numb from it all. From how you so nonchalantly threw me away for Klaus." Saying the name felt like fire on her lips and she stopped talking immediately, a fresh wave of tears building up in her eyes. Why was everything so screwed up?

"Care—" Tyler began, but Caroline cut him off, holding a hand up and flashing before his body. She could feel the heat from his body as it met her clothing, soaking through and touching her cold skin.

"No, you do not get to call me that right now. Give me time, Tyler. Give me time."

His breath hit her face in bloody swirls of smoke. He'd fed before he found her. Stumbling a bit, he moved back, his arms up in submission. "Okay, okay. Sorry."

"It's okay," she breathed, swallowing back the wetness clouding her vision.

"You know I still care about you, Caroline," he whispered. Caroline moved her eyes to his face, an eyebrow quirked in slow anger. "But I can't let him get away with it."

Caroline fought hard to bite back her harsh reply, letting the words simmer in her throat, tantalizing her tongue. They stood in silence for a time, hearing the owls screech and the mice squeak.

Snakes broke leaves and crickets chirped.

When she finally allowed herself to speak, she was final, "You know, I read somewhere that anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die." The vampire approached the shaking hybrid with careful footfalls, pressing her feet squarely into the ground before picking them back up again. She stopped when their eyes met and she could once again feel the heat radiating from his skin. "If you keep this up, this whole chasing the stupid Original, that anger will eventually eat away at you so badly that your whole body will just start ripping at itself like acid. And then you'll be dead with nothing to your name except some foolish, obsessive game. Because I know he won't kill you," she paused, for dramatic effect more than anything. "And I am _positive_ you won't get the opportunity to kill him."

Turning on her heel, Caroline's hair blew behind her as she ran with vampire speed out of the woods. No longer able to hear Tyler's heartbeat, Caroline took a breath and crumpled to the floor. Emotions poured through her veins like blood, dancing from one feeling to another like they were frogs hopping from lily pad to lily pad. They had been stored within her for days, weeks, and she had been doing so well, keeping herself wrapped up tight. But seeing Tyler, hearing him talk to her about why he left her, about how he still had feelings for her but couldn't act on them because he was too selfish and bitter, made the volcano erupt.

She was angry at Klaus for making her feel things she didn't have any right to feel, she was pissed at Tyler for just about everything. Even her friends stood as unstable ground. Nothing was right inside of her.

.1.

"_So you mean it?" She'd asked him, confidence sliding around her words, slipping through the consonances and vowels. He'd quirked an eyebrow as he retrieved his shirt and pulled it quickly over his naked upper body. She tried not to whimper at the loss of skin. "About never coming back?" She clarified. _

"_Ah," he murmured, sliding his arms through the holes of his jacket and straightening the fabric. He walked to her and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look in his eyes. They were still black with desire and a sorrow she would never understand. "I mean it." _

_She had swallowed, biting back the battling feelings inside her belly. "Good," she whispered as his head got closer to hers. His breath sighed over her and she started breathing his air, tasting him on her tongue. _

_Against her better judgement she shut her eyes, her mouth beginning to tingle in anticipation of the kiss. But it never came. _

_With a hushed 'goodbye' that already sounded miles away, Caroline felt the hand drop from her chin and a whoosh of air that blew her ripped shirt open. _

_She opened her eyes, searching for him, knowing he would be halfway across the world by then. A stone dropped in her heart, weighing her down. _

_She'd confessed. And now she felt like she'd been chained up for her crime. _

.1.

That moment, when a girl and her tortured beast tossed inhibition to the leaf-ridden ground and let their souls, their bodies, entwine with rough tenderness, would forever remain a locked piece of history that belonged solely to Caroline. It wasn't Klaus's or Tyler's or Elena's; it was hers. And all the rippling sensations, all the brokenness and sweet pants of promises, all the forgotten, careless words of devotion spilled when their blood ran too hot—she would drag it all to her grave, never giving anyone else the pleasure of knowing that she was the only person in history to so capture the darkened soul of Niklaus Mikaelson.

* * *

**A/N 2: **_Can I open my eyes now? Was this all taken well? I know someone out there is wondering why I seem to write everything with so much "feeling", like no one can just get a break and be happy, and that's because I really don't think the characters on this show are ever just happy. It's all darkness and sorrow mixed with a little lust and love. _

_So, yeah. I know that's probably not how it would have happened at all had she chosen not to tell Tyler, but eh, I claim artistic license. _

_I've decided these suckers'll come out on Friday's, so you have the next few Friday's (provided you actually want more and enjoy them) to look forward to getting the little drabble/one-shots. Two Door Cinema Club's song was inspiration for this, so if you wanna check them out, go ahead._

_Up next . . . **Caroline and Klaus share a phone call. He may have promised to stay away, but he never said anything about not using modern technology . . .**_

_Two down, eight to go!_

_-LoveIsATemple_


	3. Phone Calls From the Devil

**A/N 1: **_Okay, here we go once again! _

_I want to thank everyone who's favourited, followed, reviewed, or even just read this. It makes my soul happy and my days easier to live through._

_Fair warning, this one is full of angst. I'm sorry if you don't like that. Also, it's kind of a lot longer than I originally planned. I'm, again, kinda nervous. I spent forever trying to fix this, but I'm still not sure it's all that great. The ending's a bit weird for me, but if you like it, then that's all that matters. _

_If you do end up enjoying this, and if you feel like doing all the liking and reviewing, then go ahead and I thank you ahead of time. You're all great and perfect and I wish I could say more than a million thank you's. _

_Number three: **Klaus calls Caroline.** Ooh, exciting stuff. . ._

**_DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING._**

_Please enjoy and I'll see you down at the bottom!_

* * *

**"You say, love is a temple, love a higher law,**

**Love is a temple, love the higher law.**

**You ask me to enter, and then you make me crawl,**

**And I can't be holding on to what you got**

**When all you got is hurt.**

**One love, one blood, **

**One life, you've got to do what you should."**

**One | U2**

* * *

**Drabble # 3 (of 10) | Phone Calls From the Devil**

The undead don't need to breathe. Human food does not give them the same sustenance as it did before their hearts stopped beating. Sleep is not a requirement when you have your whole life to be awake. And yet, all the undead carry out these unnecessary tasks out of habit, or desperation to return to their once human souls.

Caroline breathed and slept and ate, and she enjoyed it. It made her feel normal; forced her to forget that in a few hours, she'd be sucking blood stolen from a hospital.

Because that was what she desired. Normalcy. That was why she was lying in bed inside an empty dorm room on a Friday night, reading a textbook that she spent way too much money on for a class she'd be able to take again and again due to the whole 'living for eternity' side effect of being smothered to death by a crazy bitch on a revenge streak.

Did she need to take a course on the "History and Appreciation of Art"? No, but she could do whatever she wanted. So what if it involved not being out with her friends on a Friday night at some college party. Who wanted to get drunk and have a good time anyway? Definitely not her.

Okay, so maybe she was torturing herself. She liked to do that from time to time. It was a good reminder that she was an idiot. A cold, heartless idiot who took too much time every other day when she wasn't torturing herself remembering what it felt like to be slammed against a tree and kissed like the word was ending.

No one else knew why Caroline sulked once a month, but they weren't about to ask. She often thought the textbook would give it away (she had never shown an interest in art before), but she supposed her friends never were the wisest bunch when it came to her. She could probably jump up and down with a glowing sign that read "I'm Obsessing Over Something Really Stupid I Did That Happened More Than Four Months Ago. Ask Me About It!" and they'd ignore, ignore, ignore.

Using long, slender fingers, she slid the thick pages of her textbook over and over until she found the Surrealism movement. Her eyes scanned the pages describing various surrealists and what their goals were when it came to art. Caroline thought most of the paintings looked like the artists had been high on acid when drawn and slathered in paint, but she supposed they held a particular charm.

She read that the aim of surrealism was to dig deep into the unconscious and subconscious by painting dreams. Artists like René Magritte disassociated the natural way of things to capture the spontaneity of a repressed mind. Apparently that meant painting butterflies on windmills and French horns on elephants.

_Is my work really that literal? _

Caroline's eyes snapped up from the page she was reading and held her breath. She gulped and moved her head from side to side, taking in the room and checking to make sure everything was in order.

Wind whistled through the slightly open window, blowing the silky curtains out and washing her warm body in cool air. The fish tank she'd insisted on buying a couple of months back still had two bleeding heart tetra's swimming through the fake, plastic trees the pet shop assistant convinced her they needed. Nothing was out of place. She was safe.

The vampires on campus had been lucky for the past few months. All supernatural beings must've had a ruling that voted on leaving them alone and Caroline couldn't have been happier. She was done stressing about it all; whether or not she'd live to see the sunrise or even go to sleep at night. University was hard enough as it was without adding monsters and aliens and sasquatch to the mix.

_It won't be enough for you. _

A loud echoey bang resonated through the room as she jumped out of bed. The large textbook she'd been flitting through landed squarely on her big toe and she bit back a cry. Falling out of its ponytail, her blonde hair cascaded over her face, blocking the world from view. With a frustrated sigh, she ignored the throbbing in her foot and moved to pin her hair back up.

"Seriously, Caroline. You need to stop this. He's not here," she chastised aloud, letting her voice startle the wind away.

What did he know about her anyway? Nothing. He knew nothing. She hated the constant worrying. She wanted to be a typical college freshman and as far as she was concerned, typical college freshman didn't fight otherworldly animals dead set on destroying the world. She was made for real life, not the vampiric one written about in God-awful romance novels and horrible sci-fi stories.

A small town life was all she desired. He _didn't know her_.

She puffed out an aggravated breath and limped over to her fish tank.

Shaky hands picked up the bag of pink bloodworms, cracking the seal and scooping up a handful. Reaching over the tank's open top, the young vampire ignored the disgusting texture of the worms and let them fall through the cracks in her fingers.

Crouching down she watched her bleeding heart tetra's destroy the small, writhing animals. Blood from the worms sprinkled out in the water like small clouds of red smoke. It looked almost beautiful.

In the back of her mind, she thought she could hear her phone ringing. With all the "voices" speaking to her at the moment though, she doubted it actually was going off. Regardless, she walked away from the bloody fish tank with an aching toe and shuffled her duvet until her phone tumbled to the ground.

She observed it momentarily, a warm feeling swarming in her belly.

It called to her, the phone, like a siren's song, and she had no fear, no panting second thoughts, before she swiped at the screen and lifted it to her ear. Her undead heart beat raggedly against her ribs and she sucked in a breath.

"Hello?"

* * *

"Why do you keep staring at that phone?" Brown hair whipped across his face and he choked back the desire to rip it off the werewolf's head.

"Not now, Haley," he warned, his eyes not leaving the mobile.

The burner phone he'd purchased just that morning sat in front of him on the table. It laughed at him.

"I'm serious, Nikki, what's all this pouting about?" A hand slid through his hair and he closed his eyes against the feelings it stirred.

He ripped his head forward, plastering his eyes open and balling his fists by his sides until he felt bone poke his skin. "I'm not going to ask twice."

An unattractive laugh danced around his ears, "you didn't exactly ask the first time."

"You're right," he smiled. "I told. It'd be best for you if you listened."

"You don't scare me."

"But I should."

"Fine, I'll take the hint. I need some food anyway. This baby's really demanding," he heard her footsteps disappear, but her voice still spoke. "Hey, I guess it really _is _yours."

"Hilarious, Haley," he growled, still refusing to take his eyes off the burner phone.

One call, that's what it said on the sticky label. The phone could make one call and then it'd fizzle out and die. He felt an odd kinship with the device. It reminded him of his situation. He'd been so alive back in Mystic Falls with her there, touching him and needing him. And then it was over, and after the smile faded, so did he.

Niklaus Mikaelson was not one to dwell on the past unless it provided him instant satisfaction or helped fuel a war, but something was digging at his brain and would not relent. He'd promised, it's true, and he rarely went back on promises, but this was something he could not control and had no power to contain. The memories came at him in surges of lust and reprimand; conflicting emotions that tousled his poor brain, keeping him up at night and constantly ribbing at him to _do something _about it. To let it go once for and all.

Which, if he thought about it, was something he didn't truly want to do. He didn't want to forget and move on. What he wanted to do was foolishly parade back into the blonde vampire's life and steal her breath away. Take her to New Orleans and force her to stay with him through it all just so he could have constant access to that neck and those legs and _her. _

Entirely selfish, but Klaus was nothing if not selfish. And foolish.

He drowned out the sound of Haley munching on some disgusting sugar-infused snack and unclenched his fists, goading his arms on the table and carefully picking up the cold phone. He held it between his thumb and forefinger delicately as if it would snap in such a light hold. With a racing mind, he flipped the phone open and stared at it for a few more seconds, trying to remember why he was doing this to himself.

At a thousand years of age, one would place the probability that their minds could be controlled by a single person at impossible. He thought it was fact for years and years until he stumbled across the silky blonde vampire. For someone who'd been around forever, the whirlwind of feelings that overcrowded his entire being and could not be turned off like so many other emotions caught him off guard. It tore at him until he finally relented and gave up on getting rid of his affection.

Giving himself no more time to dwell on the past or worry about the future, Klaus pressed buttons, a high pitched beep going off every time his finger sunk into one of the numbers. Tentatively, he held his thumb over the "CALL" button, watching it go in and out of focus.

"What the hell," he mumbled, sucking up his fears and compressing the button.

He heard the ringing before he lifted the phone to his ear. His blood started boiling. In his head all he could see was blonde hair and blue eyes and perfect lips and fleshy breasts.

What would she say? Would she yell and squeal and cry? Would she beg him?

He'd built an empire around himself in the years since he'd been created. Wars and armies and servants, all his. He could conquer the world if he so desired.

And that empire, that power, crumbled to dust at the sound of her scratched voice.

"Hello?"

His eyes widened.

He didn't say anything. He couldn't form any coherent thoughts. All he could remember was her and the way it felt to touch and kiss and love her.

A fool; God, he was a fool. A fool for allowing this to happen, for allowing such a small thing to get in his head and _ruin everything. _Ruin all he had built.

He knew nothing of love except her, and she wanted nothing more to do with him.

_So, _he thought again, _why am I doing this?_

"Is this a prank call?" She asked, a shiver in her voice.

_Ah, _he sighed almost out loud, _that's why. _

A smirk pulled at his lips and he leapt up from the table, escaping the house and running deep into the woods away from the prying ears of his fellow company. He stopped when he came to a distant lake, watching the water glisten and ripple. Fish swam underneath the blanket of crashing water, unaware of the heron placed diligently a few yards from them, waiting for its prey like all good hunters do.

"Seriously, I'm gonna to hang up if you don't say something."

_Seriously. _She used that word too much.

He loved it.

He rushed through a million different openings. Funny, classic, sexy, smooth, cliché. What would get her blood pumping and her soul sighing?

His smirk spread into an all out grin that he could bet would be evident in his greeting, but he couldn't care less.

"Hello, Caroline."

* * *

If time could freeze, it would've come to a standstill just then.

She would recognise that voice anywhere. The deep, thick accent and utterly sexy drip of a long forgotten lisp. Her belly coiled tight with sickening want and uncontrollable anger.

She opened her mouth to scream.

All that came out was lost air.

"I figured that would be your reaction."

She could hear the smile on his face. She wanted desperately to smack it off. Damn her small arms. Why could she not live in _The Incredibles _universe and be Elastigirl?

"Not happy to hear from me?" He asked innocently, his words crackling through the phone.

Still, her brain refused to move her mouth.

"I could do both sides of this conversation, sweetheart, but I'd rather you fill in some spots here and there. My Caroline impression is rather rusty."

Something burst inside of her when he said her name. Maybe it was her heart. . .or her. . .spleen?

Whatever it was tugged her vocal chords, yanked at them, spreading her lips wide and slackening her jaw.

The coil sprung loose.

"What the fuck? What the. Actual. Fuck? Why the hell are you calling me? Where's that promise that you'd never contact me again? Ugh, God, why are you doing this to me? I've been fine without you, fine. Absolutely, positively fine. Why are you calling? How'd you even get this number? Wait, I don't really want to know the answer to that. Is this for phone sex, because I swear I'm not doing that. Goddammit, Klaus—"

"Caroline, Caroline. Stop talking, please. My ears are very sensitive." His words were full of unsung laughter. She hoped it hurt to hold back.

She frowned, stomping her foot, forgetting for a moment that Klaus was speaking to her when a shocking pain spread up her leg and into her stomach. She whimpered.

"Caroline? Are you hurt?" All the giggles and smiles were gone, genuine concern taking their place.

"You gonna swoop in and save me?" She asked through clenched teeth.

"What happened?"

Caroline sighed and sat down on her bed, still fuming. "I dropped my fucking textbook on my toe."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh. Not that exciting."

The hair hanging behind her started coming loose and several wisps fell into her face. She blew them away with warm puffs of breath.

Her brain hurt. Why on earth was he calling her five months after the fact? What did it prove? She was slowly melting from all the inner turmoil.

"I'm sorry," he offered a few seconds later.

"Not your fault," she said, arching an eyebrow. _Except that's a lie. Because it is your fault. Or at least my memory of you. _

"I wish I could take the pain away."

Caroline paused, taking in his words. His declaration, really. Klaus sounded so broken. But he was old and had probably taken a few acting classes through the ages.

He got what he wanted from her, so what was the point?

"Well, you can't," she whispered, suddenly afraid that her words would bend and break with too much pressure.

"Wishing is futile, isn't it?" His voice dropped to a soft cry, a whimper if nothing more.

Letting her brain focus before opening her mouth, Caroline replied with equal softness, "I guess it kind of is, yeah."

She heard him groan and could imagine him running a calloused hand down his face, stopping to play his scruff. "_Why did I phone you_?" He asked, but she could tell it was a question for himself.

"Because you like torturing yourself," she offered, attempting for it to come out as a playful jab; it sounded more like a cry for help.

"Do you often partake in such activities?"

She drew in a lazy breath and rolled her eyes. "All the time."

"Why do you insist on hurting yourself?"

Caroline got up from the bed and started pacing around, letting her free hand flail. "Because," she squeaked, ripping her hair tie free and slinking her hands through her loose curls. "Because it's easier than moving on."

"Easier?" He inquired curiously.

She blushed, a mix of anger and shame and embarrassment. "Yeah. So much easier."

"How so?" His words sounded like they were sitting on the edge of a very uncomfortable seat, just waiting to jump up and scram.

"Why are you calling me?" She murmured, defeated.

"Why haven't you hung up?"

_Because I don't want to! _She wanted to scream. The words were on the tip of her tongue, burning her taste buds with the sweet memory of his lips.

"Well, I can tell you why I called you," he continued, not allowing her a chance to speak. She rolled her eyes painfully. "I miss you, Caroline. And I think the only way I'll be able to say this is over the phone, so I'm saying it. I'm old; so, so old. I've seen the worst people thrive and the best people die. My eyes have witnessed the rise and fall of civilisations. I have touched every woman known to humanity and used them all the same. But you, love. . .you twisted me. Twisted me until I could no longer stand straight. And here I am, far away from you, missing you. Wanting you. Wishing I could turn back time and collapse into you."

Caroline was struck dumb, her mind fizzing as if someone had poured pop rocks in her head and turned on the water full blast. Every thought crackled in her ears.

"What—what can I say to that, Klaus?" She breathed, her eyebrows dropping over her eyes.

She could hear him thinking, hear the _tick tick tick _of the wheels in his head as they spun, connecting consonants and vowels together into words and words into sentences and sentences into feelings. "You can say whatever you want, love. Nothing is off limits. In fact, you could yell at me for the next hundred years through this phone and I'd be happy just to hear your voice."

Letting out a half cry/half laugh, Caroline stopped pacing and stood in front of her fish tank. They'd finished eating their worms, but there was still a slight red tinge in the water. Her bleeding heart tetras were surrounded by blood, by death. She saw the similarities between her and Klaus and the fish clearly for the first time.

Klaus and Caroline were poison to one another, constantly beating at the other's heart. Their worlds clashed entirely, and yet they couldn't stay away. It was an impossibility; one that would surely kill them both.

"Klaus," she murmured, falling to the floor and watching the room fuzz over as her eyes filled with tears.

"Caroline."

"What do we do?" She asked, swallowing the lump in the throat and wincing. Everything hurt.

"You remember what I told you?" He sounded like he was crying.

"You've said a lot of things to me," she gasped, swallowing back a sob.

"Ha. I have, haven't I?" She nodded, knowing he couldn't see her. "When you graduated, Caroline. Do you remember?"

"How could I forget?" She asked with a distressed laugh.

"Then keep on remembering. We have forever, love. Let's not waste it."

Caroline tasted salt when she opened her mouth. "We don't have forever, Klaus. You're bound to move on, leave me behind."

"No, _no_," there was a harshness to his words, an almost frightened contortion. "You are it. I've been alive for over a thousand years. I _know_ this is it."

"How can you know that?" It came out like a whine and she flinched. Just earlier she was telling herself to forget him. Why was he so hard to let go of?

"Because when you're me, when you've witnessed all I've witnessed. . .When you've been dead for as long as I have, you _know _these things."

"And there's not a part of you that thinks this is all just a little too surreal?"

"How do you mean?" He asked solemnly.

"You're a thousand years old, Klaus," she squealed quietly. "I'm just. . .me."

"You are Caroline Forbes, Miss Mystic Falls. The most fantastical, wonderful woman—nay, person—I've ever met. Do you not believe me? Am I not being sincere enough?" His voice rose with every word, filling her with that sickening need.

"What about me? I still have a life to live. What if I move on. What would you do then?"

She heard him take in a breath and then heard him hold it.

"I'd wait." He said finally, sounding certain.

Caroline laughed sardonically. "You're so sure I'm yours, huh? So positive I could never want someone as much as I want you?"

"You still want me?"

"Oh, get real, Klaus!" She moaned.

"Caroline, I've been around the world enough times to know what a soulmate is."

Caroline felt her heart break.

He was doing it, making her bleed.

Pressing a hand to her forehead, she unsuccessfully tried to stop crying. "Gah, when did we turn into some crappy romance novel?" She mumbled.

"Where do you think all those authors got their inspiration?"

"Most of them have never even been kissed. Let alone seen a naked man. Let alone been in mutual love."

"You're too cynical. You need to broaden your perspective."

"I'm too cynical? Says the most cynical, untrusting, son of a bitch that ever roamed the dark streets at midnight?"

"You make me less cynical, Caroline."

The worst part about him saying that—whispering that—was he actually believed his own words. And she found herself believing him too.

She laid back, letting her head roll on the ground, and listened to him breathe.

"You're in New Orleans with a pregnant werewolf," she reminded him halfheartedly.

"Details."

She laughed, a stupid sound that came out more like a wheeze. Her tears started dripping hotly over her ears. "I'm scared, Klaus. And you promised."

"I promised. I know I promised. I'm starting to hate myself for that."

"This would never work. My friends hate you."

"Well, I hate your friends."

"You hate everyone," she chided.

"I don't hate you."

"I don't know why."

"Neither do I," he replied honestly.

"And I don't know why I can't just hate you. Every time I try to remember how horrible you are, I just get slammed with these conflicting emotions. Hatred mixed toxically with something that's definitely _not_ hatred," she admitted. It was safer over the phone, right? When she couldn't see him, or smell him, or be forced to witness his addicting smile. Or watch his tears slide down his beautiful, stubbly cheeks.

"I could never put a name on the feeling, either."

He was so sad. She was so sad.

They were a mess. They could never be clean.

"Do you think that maybe we're some form of sick experiment? Like, our creator, whoever that may be, is staring at us right now laughing or crying or shaking its head?"

"Do explain, dear Caroline," he sighed.

"I mean, what if we were built with these timers or something when we were born at our respective times and they were set to go off when we met and instil within us this overwhelming connection that neither of us could ignore? The villain and the untainted—the classic romance. But, like, ten billion times worse and more powerful." She bit her lip, waiting for a response. With every ticking second, she felt more and more idiotic. _What is wrong with me?_

"Perhaps," he mused. "But I don't care."

"But it hurts so much," she sobbed, covering her eyes and feeling a waterfall of tears drip into her hair.

"I know."

"It's so cruel. Why, Klaus? Why me? Why _us?_" She gasped through her bitter cries.

"Because you're right, love. We were meant for this. It was written in our stars."

"Dear Brutus, am I right?" She coughed, an acidic taste souring her tongue.

"You know _Julius Caesar_?" He sounded surprised. Wounded and surprised.

"I did go to high school, yeah."

"Well, you never know. You would've loved Shakespeare, Caroline," he exhaled wistfully.

"You say that all the time about all these different people. I'm starting to wish time travel existed."

Klaus choked on a laugh. "I'd take you wherever you wanted, love."

There was another silence. It held them captive.

"You chose me," Caroline said softly when the stillness became too much. She crept back up into a sitting position and sniffled.

"What?"

"I—you could've killed me. You should've killed me. But you chose me instead."

"I chose you?"

"You made me."

"Technically, yes. I am an Original."

Caroline chuckled sorely. "You're an ass, is what you are. But that's not the point." She breathed out, willing her breath to reach wherever he was. "You picked me."

"That's what I've been saying," he remarked cautiously, stretching the statement out.

She started breathing heavily. Placing a hand against her heart, she saw the room spin. "Break your promise, Klaus." She begged, not caring how pathetic she sounded.

"What?" He coughed.

"You know, for a really old guy with supposedly perfect hearing, you have sucky hearing."

He laughed. It was innocent and vulnerable. "You're telling me to break my promise?" Hope and disbelief entwined in his words.

"Yes," she mewled with a broken smile. "But not now," she added breathlessly. "Not now. We're going to live forever, right?"

"Right. . ."

"Then find me."

"Find you? When?" He rushed through the words like they were getting lost on his tongue.

"Whenever you decide the time is right." Tears had started welling again. She blinked and they fell like venom in her lap.

"Are you choosing me, Caroline?" He demanded in the only way he knew how.

"I'm waiting for you," she countered.

"You're a riddle, sweetheart."

"And you," she hummed, "have eternity to solve me."

There was a pregnant pause filled with unspoken declarations of devotion and unsung heroes. Then there was a sigh. A regretful sigh that sunk Caroline's bleeding heart.

"It hurts," Klaus whimpered. The beast, the tortured and neglected man. So obsessed, so ruined.

"But it doesn't have to hurt forever," Caroline puled feebly.

"Ah, but it will. For when I am with you, dear Caroline, my soul hurts as if it's being stabbed with all different assortments of weapons. It's almost more painful than when I'm without you."

Her face fell. It melted.

"Mm," he spoke again, interrupting her self-destruction. "But it's the sweetest hurt I've ever known."

"Will you, then? Find me?" She asked, chewing her lip viciously. She tasted blood.

The laugh he released vibrated through her. "Someday."

It wasn't much. It was one word. But it was another promise. A hidden one only for her.

"Someday." She agreed faintly, the word burning her lungs.

Caroline heard the line go dead and then felt her heart die alongside it. But inside of her a flicker of flame lit up, waiting for the lighter fluid, the explosion.

There was no goodbye. No 'i love you and can't live without you.'

Neither of them knew what any of those things meant. Him even less than her.

She held the phone to her head until she couldn't feel her ear anymore. And when she dropped the phone, it clunked to the ground with a shattering bang. The screen split and the world she'd created on the mobile disappeared.

Her friends didn't come back that night and she barely noticed. The darkness blew up into sunshine and birds and warm breeze and Caroline didn't flinch, her body rigid with helplessness.

Klaus had called her. He'd been torn and laid out in a defenceless mess. She'd cried. She'd told him to find her.

With a sigh, one that sounded both lonely and hopeful, she shook off her feelings, letting them fall around her in an invisible vail, and gathered her forgotten textbook.

Her toe didn't hurt anymore, she realised with a slow smile.

Using her wobbly legs, tired from the emotions, Caroline sat down on her bed with her textbook, watching the light cast dirty shadows in her room. She laughed at the sight and started thumbing through the book, her eyes skimming over various artists and their works.

There's that cliche, 'I will love you forever.'

Forever is a long time. Forever is. . .well, it's _forever. _Who has forever to be in love someone? Klaus probably didn't. Caroline almost certainly didn't.

And maybe they were fooling themselves, pretending that it could work just to save their selfish pride. To prove that they were stubborn and would stick together out of sheer determination to avoid the shame of being wrong.

But perhaps they were meant for this. For all the pain and suffering and turmoil. Because in the end, love prevailed over all. Love conquered all. Love: the virus, the killing machine. It drove men to insanity and then brought them back to life. It was never perfect, there was never a formula. It just was.

And they, Klaus and Caroline. . .they just _were_.

They were jumbled and confusing and frustrating, but there was no way to stop it, to stop them.

No rules, no boundaries, no formula.

"The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars," Caroline crooned, her eyes catching sight of Vincent Van Gogh's _The Starry Night _"but in ourselves."

* * *

**A/N 2: **_Woo, that was an emotional journey and a half, am I right? _

_Alright, what did you think? Was the ending weird for you too? I promise I wasn't stealing from John Green! I love that quote and have always wanted to use it in a story and then BAM I got the perfect opportunity. Also, I don't agree with it. Well, not one hundred percent. I think bad things happen and good things happen and we don't have much to do with it. It's just life. So, Caroline and Klaus, they're in the stars, not themselves. . .If that makes any sense. . ._

_I always seem to get into a fandom just as all the fans start dying off and everyone seems to be freaking out right now because maybe Klaroline isn't actually endgame. What do you all think? This is just me being curious. Will you all still come to fan fiction to get your Klaroline fix if the couple doesn't work out? Even though they're kind of immortal and even when the show ends, they have the entirety of creation to find each other (provided neither of them die. But then there's always resurrection). I ask because I've started developing an actual fic for these guys with plot and stuff, so I want to know if it would be worthless by the time I actually get it out._

_Oh, I just realised the acronym for this story is FATS. Rise up and tell your friends._

_And lastly, the song for this "chapter" is my favourite U2 song (hence my username) and you really just need to listen to it. I think it matches up with this one-shot really well._

_I'm sorry if you didn't like it, by the way. I know I can't please everyone, but I always wish I could. Maybe the next one will be more attuned to your tastes._

_See ya next Friday! __Three down, seven to go!_

_-LoveIsATemple_


	4. Hypothetically Speaking

**A/N: 1: **_Goodness it's late. Or early. Whichever way you want to look at it. I had this written and edited, so I thought I'd just give it to you now instead of waiting until the proper morning. _

_Thank you all so, so much for the positive feedback! It's a wonderful, rewarding feeling knowing there are people out there enjoying this. Keep up the fantastic work at being utterly fantastic people! You make my heart sing. Over sixty followers! That figuratively blows my mind. This is the greatest fandom of all time, I'm sure of it. _

_This one's a lot shorter and much more drabble-y than the others. It's less __angst-ridden and a little more easygoing. I think I just needed to write something that didn't make me want to rip my hair out from tension. _

_I hope you all enjoy the next instalment of "Forget About the Sunshine" in which **Caroline talks to Matt about her time with Klaus. **How's he going to react?. . ._

**_Disclaimer: I do not own a thing. Although, I do own all the Vampire Diaries books. So, does that count as anything?_**

_Have fun with this one and I'll meet you when it's done! _

* * *

**"****If Diane Young won't change your mind,**

**Baby, baby, baby, baby right on time."**

**Diane Young | Vampire Weekend (_Modern Vampires of the City)_**

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**Drabble #4 (of 10) | Hypothetically Speaking. . .**

Music pumped through the building, vibrating the hairs on her arms and jiggling her insides. Lights flashed all different colours, blinding her momentarily if she held her eyes open for too long. Bodies glistening with sweat brushed past her, their salty figures gliding on her skin, their energy wearing her out.

It was Mystic Grill's first Youth Night. If you were under eighteen or over thirty, Mystic Grill was not allowed to let you past their disgusting, second-hand velvet ropes.

The grill was barely recognisable. All the booths had been pushed out of the away to leave a fairly wide dance floor, and strobe lights blinked above everyone's heads. It was a mini nightclub for the small-town folk of Mystic Falls.

At eighteen years old, Caroline was wondering why she'd let Bonnie drag her here. Bonnie, of course, was nowhere in sight—probably busy dancing with Elena. Spring break usually entailed travelling and spending all day and night with your girlfriends. But no, Bonnie had convinced her to _come home_ so they could try out the Youth Night.

She was paying dearly for her decision, a skull-splitting headache knocking at her temples. And being at the grill, where there were too many grinding twenty-something's and too much bass-heavy music, was not helping at all.

Sitting at the bar seemed like a good idea. It was far enough away from the music and people. No one else appeared interested in sipping a drink and relaxing; they were all too busy trying to have sex with their clothes on. The bartender didn't bother her with conversation, simply sliding her a glass of water when she'd asked and then returning to the task at hand: mixing drinks that didn't look safe for even the most alcoholic of alcoholics to consume.

She was alone, brooding slightly at the loss of her best friend for the night, and feeling sorry for herself because she couldn't put away the A-type personality for just one evening of fun. And, of course, there was the acidic guilt corroding her intestines.

Months and months had gone by since she'd done. . .that thing with that guy who would not be named. Was she planning on telling her friends? In the beginning, yeah. Back when sleep started escaping her and the daydreams began.

When it felt like she'd been thrust into _A Nightmare on Elm Street: Hot Vampire Edition. _

But she decided against saying anything.

What would be the point? Everyone would just look down on her, and she couldn't stand the thought of her friends hating her because of one mistake. Not that she'd had success convincing herself it was a mistake quite yet. The deed still loomed in the forefront of her mind, tearing its way through her and still managing to excite her in the sickest way.

Vampire senses tingling, Caroline smelled someone, a human someone, sit next to her. Their body was warm and she detected hints of manly cologne. Familiar manly cologne. She turned her head in slight confusion, but swiped her frown when she saw who filled the empty spot.

"Matt," she hummed, opening her arms awkwardly. He met her halfway and squeezed, his muscular body protecting her from the torrid emotions swarming inside. The blonde hair atop his head tickled and she giggled loosely in his ear, tightening her grip when she felt his lips curve into a smile against her shoulder.

He pulled away first, grabbing her hands and locking their eyes. He looked worried.

"What?" She asked playfully, kinking an eyebrow and pushing their hands to his chest.

"What's wrong?" Matt countered.

Caroline started laughing, but his stony expression didn't change. He was being serious.

Her cackling stopped and she dropped her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"That was an 'I've got a secret' hug," he said through the straight line of his mouth, plopping their entwined fingers into his lap.

Caroline bunched her forehead, not caring how unattractive it looked. "How would you know that?"

"We used to date, Care. And we've been friends for a long time."

How on earth was _he _the one that saw through her thin veil of secrecy?

She cleared her throat, trying to cover up the wilt in her voice. "Well, yeah, but you know what _my hugs_ mean?"

"You speak through hugs," he stated with a delayed blink.

"I speak through my mouth."

"That too," he laughed, a little less tense but still refusing to take his eyes off of her. "Just tell me what's on your mind."

"I still don't trust how you came to the conclusion that I've got some dark secret."

Matt lowered his head so he was at eye level with Caroline. She wanted to recoil, to run away, but she would be damned if she got scared because of _Matt. _

"You might think you're difficult to read, and maybe to a lot of people you are, but I like to think I'm perceptive. Especially when it comes to you. And I never said it was dark."

Caroline debated for a moment, running through a thousand different excuses in her head and then moving on to a thousand different ways to explain what had happened.

Could she trust Matt with this?

She surveyed the young man before her closely. Creases pinched the sides of his mouth, probably due to excessive smiling. His blue eyes were bright, but concerned. Concerned for _her. _The veins in his throat pulsed out a regular beat; he wasn't nervous or angry or scared.

Opening her mouth to speak, skittish air whooshed out. Caroline watched it hit Matt's face, but he didn't flinch. "Can I raise you a hypothetical question?"

Matt bugged his baby blue eyes. "Raise me?"

Shoving their hands deep into his thighs, Caroline lifted her lips into a small smile. "Ask you. Can I ask you a hypothetical question."

"Caroline," Matt said, his tone extremely serious. Caroline moved her eyes from his to their hands. "Of course you can."

"Okay then, okay." She could do this. She could tell Matt. He would understand. And wouldn't say anything to anyone else. He was good. Always good and normal. Normal and good.

"It's me, Care. Don't look so frightened." He started trailing his thumbs against the back of her hand. She noticed how comforting it felt and told herself to relax and spit it out.

"Hypothetically speaking. . ." she began, her sentence dying midway out her mouth. Matt encouragingly bumped his forehead against hers. "Hypothetically speaking, if I told you I had scandalous, hot sex with one of the most dangerous men alive—well, not so much alive as dead—what would you say?"

She squeezed her eyes shut, eyelids threatening to snap.

"You had sex with Klaus?" Matt asked immediately, his thumbs stopping their circular motion against her skin.

She popped her eyes open, not surprised that he figured it out, and pouted. "Okay, maybe not so hypothetical. I'm such an idiot."

"Oh, Care," Matt whispered, like he couldn't get his voice to go any higher. "You're not an idiot."

Caroline watched empathy flood his features. "What's that look for?" She asked skeptically.

"I get it."

"Get what? That I had sex with our mortal enemy?"

"You didn't have sex with 'our' anything. He's not your mortal enemy, obviously."

Caroline squeezed his hands until he yanked them away. "He's supposed to be."

"Do you hear yourself, Caroline?"

Caroline rolled her eyes. "_What_, Matt?"

"He's 'supposed to be' your mortal enemy? What kind of bullshit answer is that?"

"It's not. . .it's not a bullshit answer. He's evil, Matt," she hissed, shrinking away and slamming her head on the counter.

"He's not that bad, Care." A hand gently attached itself to her back, warmth seeping through the fabric of her shirt.

"But he is. He's hurt so many people just for the hell of it. Who does that?" She asked in disbelief, moving her head so she could spy Matt. He looked down at her with the friendliest expression she'd ever seen.

"People who don't know what it feels like to be loved?" He offered with a noncommittal shrug.

"That's a stupid answer," she jeered, but couldn't help herself from silently agreeing with him.

"People who are lost, then," he tried, sliding his hand up and gripping the back of her neck. "He must be good."

Caroline raised an eyebrow in a 'try me' fashion. "Oh, yeah?"

"You fell for him. Quick and intense," Matt said easily.

Caroline choked on nothing.

He spoke the truth, of course. She had taken a pretty hard hit with Klaus. But what did it mean? Girls were always draping themselves over the bad boys. And he was the baddest. The worst kind of bad. The kind that didn't deserve redemption. Or her.

"It was one time, right?" He asked curiously.

"Just once," Caroline agreed through gritted teeth. "But God, I want to do it again."

Matt laughed, a sweet sound that goaded Caroline into joining him with breathless wheezes. She picked her head back up and rested her chin in the palm of her hand, elbow precariously perched on the bar countertop.

"How are you so okay with all of this?" Caroline chirped, slapping Matt's bicep.

"I know what you're going through."

Caroline paused, her eyes looking Matt up and down. Then it dawned on her.

She twisted her mouth sourly. "Rebekah."

Matt nodded, a calm grin attached to his face. "She's not exactly the nicest, but there's just something about her that I can't seem to get over."

"Right. I don't understand you two," Caroline admitted.

"There's that judgemental look I know and love," the boy joked.

"Hey, no," Caroline argued, "It's just. . .Rebekah?"

"Klaus, Caroline? Really?" Matt lifted his arms in mock disgust.

"Ugh!" Caroline groaned in defeat. "You're right. We're one in the same, Donovan."

"That we are, Forbes," he laughed, lightly chucking a fist under Caroline's chin.

"Who would've thunk it," Caroline wondered aloud, "you and me, getting it on with Original's?"

"'Getting it on', Care? Where do you come up with these things?"

"I don't know!" She exclaimed. "I'm just so confused, my brain doesn't know what it's saying!"

"What's so confusing? You like a guy and he clearly likes you back. What's there to be confused about?"

"Evil, remember?"

"You don't honestly believe he's evil, do you?"

Caroline was left momentarily speechless. Wasn't Matt the one that forced her to compel him when she dropped the 'vampire bomb?' And the one who constantly complained about needing a life outside of vampires and werewolves?

As little as she wanted to admit it, Rebekah Mikaelson had really done some good work on the former quarterback.

"I don't like this," she sighed, rubbing her face with a tired hand, noticing idly that her headache had disappeared, "but if I'm gonna be honest with you, no I don't actually think he's evil. I think he's terribly misunderstood and handsome and sad. And that's why he acts out. He's a child, an unloved child that's still searching for the right answers to the questions he doesn't even know how to ask."

"And you're helping him find those answers," Matt assured her with a light shove.

Caroline smiled at him, slowly moving her head up and down. "Something like that."

"Feel better?" He asked after a moment of mutual silence.

Closing her eyes, Caroline inhaled deeply and sighed out, "Yeah, I do. Thanks, Matt."

"Anytime, Care." He got up from his stool and started walking away only to turn back at the last second, his body shining green-yellow-blue-red. "You're secret is safe with me."

Caroline grinned widely, watching him get swallowed up by the myriad of horny young adults, and felt the guilty weight that had placed itself on her chest months ago steadily lift.

* * *

**A/N 2: **_What did everyone think? Was it okay? I get it ended kind of suddenly, but ah well._

_I want to say right now that while English is kind of my thing, I don't actually have a beta, and anyone with an English degree will tell you how toxic it is trying to proofread and edit your own work, so if there are mistakes in here it's all on my shoulders. _

_But anyway, I'm crossing my fingers that you guys liked it. It was fun to relax and put Matt in the story, even if that's not how it would've happened at all. __I have to admit, I kind of ship Mabekah._

_"Diane Young" is a complicated song to try to dissect on Fanfiction, but if you want to learn more head to Rock Genius and they'll tell you all about what it means. _

_Next Friday will be. . .**Rebekah confronts Klaus! Yay! or boo, I don't know. **_

_Tell me what you thought and I look forward to hearing from you! _

_Four down, six to go,_

_-LoveIsATemple_


	5. Explanations and Revelations

**A/N: **_So, wow! Over eighty follows for just four chapters. That's pretty amazing. I mean, I'm sure you're all just waiting for the M-rated stuff, but it's thrilling for me to know such a large number (because for me, eighty is a lot) is enjoying this. It makes it worth it, because I'd still be writing even if no one cared about this, so thank you thank you thank you so much for making this worth while. Please, just keep it up! You're too great and wonderful and I am so undeserving._

_This one peeks over three thousand words, but I'm actually kind of proud of it. I had to delve deep into the Original's minds to get this one done and it was a lot of fun. If you don't like it, then that'll just crush me. Okay, not really, but I really do hope this one's well received. I know a lot of you have been looking forward to it and that makes me just slightly (a lot!) nervous. There's a good (I think) balance between angst and humour in this. And maybe it's not too funny, but there's some sibling bickering going on. I have three sisters, I know bickering well. _

_I know it's kind of bittersweet now because Claire Holt has suddenly up and left TO, but I hope that doesn't cloud your enjoyment._

_Oh, and all mistakes are mine. Please frogive. . .ah, dammit. I meant forgive. . ._

_Now, on to the next chapter of Forget About the Sunshine in which **Rebekah gets Nik to talk about his feelings. Sort of.**_

**_DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING. Well, I own a lot of stuff, but The Vampire Diaries/The Originals are not actually in my possession. _**

* * *

**"All 'cause you**

**love, love, love when you know I can't love."**

**Love, Love, Love | Of Monsters and Men**

* * *

**Drabble #5 (of 10) | Explanations and Revelations**

Nik couldn't stop smiling. But he didn't know that. Nor did he know just about everyone's eyes were constantly watching him, waiting for his cheery mood to dissipate and in its place return the murderous smirk.

He was genuinely happy, and instead of freaking out about it, he was allowing it to simmer in his tummy and overtake him. What was the harm in enjoying himself every now and again? He saw no immediate fault with his less sulky appearance at least, and who would dare challenge him?

Seeing Caroline, confronting her. . .it changed everything. The game was no longer the same, nor could set itself back. They could never be 'nothing' to each other anymore. She'd admitted everything.

She'd _kissed _him. Very enthusiastically. And he greedily accepted his fate—he would forever be under the blonde's spell.

Some deep, dark place inside of himself disliked this fact, but fuck it, who cares? The thing he'd let control him for over a year finally became his. Even if it was for just one moment. One glorious moment.

Oh, who was he kidding? It was longer than a moment. She'd moaned his name for hours in those woods. He was actually surprised no one came running to see what was dying.

Elation—that's what he felt; the greatest happiness on Earth. And all it took was a thousand years and a few sexy smirks to get there.

Not everyone found Nik's exhilaration appealing. In fact, many cowered away from him while in this state more than when he was shivering with bloodlust and anger. He didn't understand New Orleans's attitude toward him since he returned. Perhaps he'd take Marcel's advice and go back to Virginia more often.

It didn't make sense; when did being kind become grounds for suspicion? Then again, it _did_ sort of make sense. When an Original starts showing mercy that usually entails a powder keg and a sporadically lit match.

He wished it could be simpler. He wished people could forget the evilness for just a second while he basked in the afterglow of sex and Caroline Forbes. When he felt like returning to his old self, he'd warn everyone. He'd kill some people; rip their throats out by fangs alone, peel the skin off their arms until they died from shock.

For now, though, he just wanted to be a normal boy satisfied with a days work. He'd gotten what he wanted and he was enjoying the rewards.

Alone in his own neck of the woods, Nik could almost taste her. With nothing to distract him except the loud leaves crashing to the ground and the distant trilling of a river, he was free to remember everything: the way Caroline's bouncy curls felt threaded through his fingers, how tight her entire body was with just one touch, the smiles she gave him, and the digging of her teeth into his neck.

He'd allowed her to take his blood free of charge and watched through half-lidded eyes as it slipped down her throat in a coppery waterfall. The sick, dangerous side of him hadn't allowed the marks to heal yet. There were still two taut, white marks above his collarbone where her incisors sliced his skin.

Scraping his rough fingers along the scars now, Nik heard someone coming. For a moment, he fear filled his bones, but he recognised the footfalls of Rebekah and immediately relaxed. She glided like a ballerina through the dead woods until he smelled her behind him.

His lips curled into a half-smile and he cracked his fingers as if preparing himself for a fight.

"Dear sister, to what do I owe this pleasure?" He asked menacingly. Rebekah had ruined his time alone—he was not thrilled.

She did not reply straight away, causing the hybrid to turn and face her. Trepidation presented itself on her face as she opened her mouth several times without uttering a single word.

He grew quickly impatient.

"Spit it out then," he demanded under his breath, stepping closer.

She didn't move, that wasn't a good sign. Her head went up a little higher and she shook her shoulders out, obviously trying to gain some motivation.

"What's going on with you, Nik?" She asked after what seemed like hours, but could only have been mere minutes.

Nik stood still and frowned.

Why would she think anything was wrong?

"You've been acting weird since we got back," she elaborated awkwardly, shifting her weight from her right to her left foot.

"Ah," Nik coughed, glaring at his own feet. Had he been acting _weird_?

"How so?" He prodded.

Rebekah stumbled a little, caught off guard by his curiosity. He giggled at his sister's clumsiness.

"Well. . .it's just. . .you've been smiling," she offered, unsure. "And almost giddy. We've been concerned."

"Concerned? Why?" They had nothing to worry about. He was more than fine. Much more than fine.

"Because we think maybe something happened while we were in Virginia," she continued, refusing to look him in the eye. Usually that would piss him off, but it didn't now. Maybe something _was_ wrong with him. "And I want you to know you can talk to me," she finished, flashing her concerned blue eyes.

He scowled. "What makes you think I'd want to talk to you about this?"

Rebekah stood her ground with defiance. "So there is something to speak about?"

Had she tricked him into confessing?

No, she'd done no such thing.

"What if there is?" He was being cryptic and he could tell she didn't appreciate his discrepancy.

"I'm your sister. Talk to me," she seethed through clenched teeth, not pleased with his avoidance.

Nik smiled fondly. "Something did happen in Mystic Falls, you are correct," he admitted, very close to blushing. He damned himself to hell just for that and immediately corrected his growing grin.

Rebekah rushed for him, grabbing his face in her hands and peering up at him with scared breaths. "Did they do something to you, brother?" She asked frantically, moving his neck so she could see every part of his face.

He shook out of her grip and held onto her wrists.

"Nothing bad happened, Rebekah. It was good," he groaned with a shake of his head.

Did letting several people live not mean happiness? Or did it just mean 'crazy' to the vampires of New Orleans? Goodness, how this place had changed since he was its sole ruler.

She twisted her hands and set herself free of his grasp. "Then what's got you acting so different? You never smile."

"When do I not smile?" He was fairly certain a sinister grin was never far from his lips.

"You smile, you do," she agreed, but then went on talking like only Rebekah could, "but you've never looked happy doing it. It's freaking me out."

"Freaking you out?" He scoffed at her modern choice of words.

"Yes!" She exclaimed, stomping her foot as if she were a mere child. "Now, tell me what's causing this dramatic shift in personality. I want my brother back."

"I'm right here," he explained, motioning to his entire body. "Just because a stupid smile is on my face doesn't mean I'm a completely changed man."

He needed to defend himself. It almost sounded like Rebekah was insulting Caroline even if she didn't exactly know it and Nik couldn't have that happening.

"You're not you! Did you have a bad fall or something?"

"Oh, yes, Rebekah. The great and powerful Niklaus survives a thousand years, doppelgängers, and our parents, but the one thing that's thrown me so very far off my rocker is a bump to the head," he bit out sarcastically, admiring the anger rising in Rebekah's cheeks.

She threw her hands up in an annoyed huff. "You're such an asshole, Nik!"

"Never said I wasn't," he chimed with a deep chuckle.

"Will you just tell me? Please? As your sister, I deserve to know, right?" She was getting desperate now. He could feel the waves of annoyed sweat washing through her clothes despite the chilled air.

"You really wanna know?" He teased. Rebekah nodded enthusiastically. "Truly want to know?" He pushed. Still, she nodded. "Okay," he conceded, hoping to get a good reaction out of her at his profession. "I slept with Caroline."

He watched in admiration as his sister's facial expression transformed from dumbfounded shock, to sickening disgust, to inconsolable rage—all the while with his smirk in place.

"You WHAT!?" She screeched, sending all different assortments of birds off with flapping wings and squawks of disapproval.

Nik tried for only a second to hold back his laughter before it rumbled out like thunder on a darkened day.

"That's so disgusting!" She chided, running to him and slapping him back. He was too thrilled to even care.

"You do realise she's a thousand years younger than you," she mentioned.

The hybrid paused. That thought hadn't occurred to him, no. But was it important? She wanted it. He wanted it. It definitely wasn't forced.

And despite his a thousand years head start, she made him come with more force than any creature ever had previously.

He shivered in remembrance.

Rebekah was still in front of him, shaking her head in both disappointment and fury.

"What the fuck do you see in her? What about Haley?" She yelled.

More birds shot off into the sky.

Nik was growing tired of her immaturity. She hadn't been a saint these past centuries either.

"Oh, shove off, Rebekah. Haley doesn't care about me, so why should I care about her? And besides, what do you see in the quarterback?" He challenged gravely, revelling in his sister's stuttered step back. "Thought so," he sighed. "I don't know Rebekah. She is still a mystery to me, I must admit. It's not something I can name, just something I'm having accept."

His admission startled himself as well as his sister, who looked at him currently with an annoying empathetic whimper.

"You love her?" She asked suddenly.

Nik faltered at her inquiry, but quickly covered it up with a grimace. "No."

He spoke sternly, surely. No room for doubt.

"Yes," Rebekah tested, her voice uncertain, but clear.

The vampire/werewolf cross had no time for his sister's interference. Negotiation was out of the question.

"I told you," he warned with a growl, "no."

Niklaus couldn't love her.

He could be infatuated, yes. He could admire her. He could even fuck her. But he drew the line at _feelings. _

"Oh, come off it Nik! You love her, just admit it," she needled, her words pricking him like vervain.

He snapped.

"No!" He bellowed, gathering his delicate sister's neck in a vice grip and slamming her body against a rotting tree. She gagged and clawed at his hand, but he didn't relent. Not yet. She needed to understand the same thing he did: he _couldn't _love her.

Eventually, Rebekah's wet gurgles were too much, and he let her drop to the floor. She scrambled and whooshed up, but didn't try to fight back. He shouldn't be surprised; she always looked up to him even when he was so terribly cruel.

He was an awful big brother.

"I feel sorry for you, Nik," she spat with a rueful laugh.

Five inches. He was five inches taller than her and she was wearing only flats. This was not a dramatic height difference, but it was enough that she had to bend her neck to grasp his eyes' attention.

Her face swam with too many emotions—he had to back away and shield his precious, old, unfeeling eyes.

"Why?" He begged to know her reasons for sorrow.

"Because you can't admit it. Not to her, not to yourself. Not to _me_!"

He laughed at the leaves crunching under his feet and peered dazedly at his younger sister and her pitiful expression.

And he was having such a good day before she showed up to ruin it.

"Love is a weakness, sister," he told her. He'd always told her this. Always. When would she understand?

"Weakness?" She scoffed. His anger spiked. "It's only a weakness if you let it become one, Nik. I—I really don't understand why you chose Caroline or why she chose you, but if one time with her was enough to keep you smiling all this past week, then why the hell aren't you with her right now? Why can't you see the effect she has on you? The effect love has on you."

"_I can't be good_, Rebekah. The good do not survive."

He said it more to the ground than to Rebekah.

"Love doesn't kill, Nik," she tried again. "It doesn't tear you down. It rises you up."

"And you'd know?" He asked incredulously, his belly burning. "You'd know all of this. From personal experiences?"

He was being cruel, but she deserved it for her stupidity. Her boldness.

"Yes! Yes I know it! And maybe getting your heart broken never ceases to hurt, brother, but it's worth it," she said as a roll of thunder sounded above their heads and a cloud cracked, sending water upon the land.

"Is it truly worth it? Does the bad really weigh out the good?"

The rain spit between his lips and clouded his vision, but maybe that was the tears. The frustrated tears.

"Sometimes I wonder," she shouted against the whipping rain. "But yes. It always weighs out the good."

"Love is weakness, Rebekah," he repeated lazily, but loud enough that she could still hear him. "Love kills you."

"No." She shook her head, moving to stand in front of him. "It _doesn't_ kill you. It just makes you a little less afraid of dying. It saves you. It makes it all okay. It's your salvation."

Nik watched his sister's blonde hair soak with rain and her clothes cling to her body. The pain was easier to hide in the rain. It was easier to confront without anyone else judging you.

Love _was _weakness.

But Caroline had told him the same thing all that time ago when she wasn't sure if they'd be the words used up by her final breaths.

"_I know that you're in love with me," she croaked, the light fizzling behind her blue eyes. His heart, the heart that had been dead for a thousand years, beat like a jackhammer in his chest. _

"_And anyone capable of love is capable of being saved." She finished. _

Those would have been amazing last words had he let her slip. Had he allowed his werewolf bite to kill her. But he literally could not watch her die.

What happened to her being a means to an end? When did she stop being his plaything?

When did she crawl under his skin and rip the rug from underneath him?

"_And anyone capable of love is capable of being saved." _

She saw his goodness before he even saw it himself. She trusted him, trusted that he wouldn't sit back and let her die.

Forever he'd hated the way his voice cracked when he'd called her name that night, when he'd given in and fed her his blood.

But Caroline had been right.

And so was his sister.

With a choked laughter that rippled with the thunder, Nik threw his body on the ground, letting his head smack the wet leaves. His smile was pained and broken and twisted, but somehow happy.

He knew Rebekah was no longer with him. She'd run off soon after her inspiring little speech.

She would be proud of that one for some time, he didn't doubt.

The sky continued to bleed on him, swallowing him in mud and cracked leaves and regretful misery.

"_. . .So if you promise to walk away like you said, and never come back, then yes, I will be honest with you, I will be honest with you about what I want."_

_He hesitated, mulling it over for a second. _

_His word was good, but dammit, she was better. _

"_I will walk away," he agreed gravely, "and I will never come back. I promise." _

_Caroline got close. Too close. He could smell her and it was overwhelming. Flowers and blood and sweetness; strength and passion and future; hope and desperation and hidden desires. _

"_Good." _

She would be the death of him.

On his gravestone it would read: Death by Intoxicating Blonde Vampire, Caroline Forbes.

Perhaps love did destroy you—hell, he felt close to dying every time she found her way into his thoughts. And that's what scared him. He had spent a thousand years, a thousand lifetimes, building armies and raising cities from crumbled stone, and his one weakness, his fucking Achilles heel, was a baby vampire with too much cheek.

Perhaps love did destroy you—but with her, it wasn't nearly as terrifying a prospect as he once assumed.

A small, defeated smirk pulled his lips apart.

He needed to find an excuse to return to Mystic Falls.

* * *

**A/N 2: **_Okay, I'm lame. I have the weirdest, most British sense of humour that people just don't seem to understand. I sincerely hope all my jokes get through to at least one person out there. Shout out to whoever you are!_

_What did people think? Leave your reviews and questions and theories and stuff. . .I'm not good at asking for that stuff. But it does make me smile when you review, so maybe that'll be enough encouragement. _

_And perhaps I left this one off at such a weird point because maybe I have an idea for a sequel of sorts. . .? Maybe. . .(wink, wink)_

_Who's ready for some shameless promotion? Well, it's not really promotion so much as a question. Anyway, would you be interested in reading a new fic I'm developing? It's probably been done before, in fact I know it has, but maybe you could hear me out?_

_There's going to be a prequel to the fic coming out soon, but it could most definitely stand alone as a one-shot if people don't like the idea, so please give your feedback. The idea is:** One year after appearing as a guest star on what many consider the greatest television show to date, Caroline Forbes is reunited with her arch nemesis as they co-star in her feature film debut.**_

_I've read "Everybody Talks" more than once, but I had this idea before reading that fic and I'm not trying to compete with Hybridlovelies (because who can do that), but I am asking for an opportunity to put my own spin on the whole acting thing. The prequel would be revolving around when Caroline guest starred on the show and, again, could stand as a one-shot. If you like the sound, please let me know. I've been working on it for a long time and I want to know if it's worth the trouble. _

_This is really long, so I'll wrap it up by saying check out Of Monsters and Men. That song goes along well with this chapter. _

_Next time. . .**Klaus discovers Caroline shredded his poor picture and finds a way to fix it.**_

_Thanks so much! Five down, five to go. We're at the halfway point people! Yay!_

_-LoveIsATemple_


	6. Back For More (pt one)

**A/N 1: **_You lucky suckers get this a day early because I'm home in Virginia and have to celebrate my youngest sister's birthday tomorrow. So, I won't get a huge opportunity to publish anything. And, of course, there's the small fact that this drabble/one-shot is a TWO PARTER! Expect part deux on Saturday. Or really late tomorrow. I'm not sure yet. Be on the look out for it, though._

_I'm back to my angst-ridden roots with this instalment, be prepared. And both parts are in Klaus's POV. _

_Okay, enjoy this part in which **Klaus finds a way to get a new picture to Caroline**! And thanks so so much to everyone who's reviewed, favourited, and followed. You're amazing! _

_If you're up for it, review this part for the hell of it and tell me what you think might happen next. . ._

**_DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING._**

* * *

**"Now, do you want dignity,**

**Or do you want love?**

**Go ahead and want both,**

**But you only get one."**

**Saturday Night Again | Patrick Stump**

* * *

**Drabble #6 (of 10) | Back For More pt. one**

He was back at her window, breaking his New Year's Resolution like the good little hybrid he was.

How long had he kept it this year? A good day or so. Which wasn't so bad. The first few times he tried to cut back on watching her it lasted only a couple of hours. He'd suffer from withdrawal much like an addict and be right by her window again in no time, itching to get his fix.

The poor, isolated hybrid lusted after her. He craved her like he typically craved fresh blood. His fangs would drop and his veins would ripple until he broke another one of his silly resolutions and killed an innocent bystander to quench his enthusiastic and inescapable thirst.

Loneliness surrounded him like the most suffocating blanket. He was alone and it hurt. Not that he'd ever admit that to anyone but himself. And even then he liked to pretend everything was perfectly fine.

Years had passed since his failed New Orleans experiment. His siblings were back in their graves, wooden daggers jutting from their chests like sick pieces of art. Everyone betrayed him yet again. He could trust no one.

And yet here he was, observing the blonde creature in her natural habitat. He trusted her foolishly and stupidly. He supposed it was a good thing she didn't know he still existed, still stalked her.

Klaus had long forgotten his promise to her, as he was sure she had as well. The only thing that prevented him from knocking on her door, or any of the doors he'd seen her behind these many years, was that strange, bulky man who accompanied her wherever she went.

Jealousy had never been his forte, but he couldn't help the odd sensation from poisoning his blood every time he watched Caroline's face light up at the sight of this man.

_As long as he treated her right_, he'd tell himself, _then it was okay_. _As long as no harm came to her_.

Those were the thoughts that kept her companion alive—Klaus's unwillingness to hurt her further.

Would she be upset if she found him one day, lounging by her bedroom window, looking in and _seeing _her? Noticing how everything had changed for her as well?

But this was not Mystic Falls. She couldn't get mad. She got what she wanted; that horrible, fake feeling of normalcy.

She was moving steadily along without him and it broke something inside of him.

He watched her. Creepy and intrusive, but she didn't know he was there.

Did that make it worse or better? More or less painful? He never could figure that out.

Tonight, in the chilled, suburban New York atmosphere, she was alone. No boy toy. Just herself and the small thing he'd heard her call a dog. It looked like a rat to him, but he'd been alive too long and to him dogs were massive, protective beasts.

Klaus often studied her beauty on nights when she was on her own. He'd poke a thumb out and try to memorise every pattern on her skin, the exact curve of her covered breast, and the sure way her soft, sweet-scented yellow locks fell over her creamy shoulders.

Everything about her choked him. His throat closed and he stopped breathing simply because it was _her_.

And he hated it. Hated the way she'd somehow managed to rule over him all these goddamned years. Without his family or his "friends" to guide him, nothing stopped him from becoming consumed by her—by his pained and haunted memory of her.

She was his ghost; a former living thing that captured his soul and dragged him with her wherever she went. He saw himself, sweaty and broken, in her each time he stared too long. So, to get her out of his mind, he drew her.

He traced a charcoal pencil over old parchment paper until the lines connected and transformed into the magnificence that was Caroline Forbes. Sometimes he'd bring his paints and climb up the large tree perfectly placed outside her bedroom window like it knew, years before when it started growing, that he would one day need it.

Her body was still this winter night, curled in a small, lacy robe with nothing underneath, and he worked best when he could observe a still object. He'd been painting her from memory for years and it never turned out quite right, but he would be damned (ha, oh how the irony plagued him) if he couldn't place her perfectly in this painting.

Almost like magic, and there was a slight chance it was such a thing, his hand, already somehow covered in paint, danced over the paper.

Colours blended, shadows twirled.

Soon, the blank canvas became overwhelmed by the image of Caroline Forbes.

It hurt his dead heart to look at, so he turned his head and watched the moon instead. The white orb wasn't full, but it blasted him with an urge to change into his fluffy form.

After many moments of silence, of glaring at the branches swaying in the wintery breeze, Klaus climbed down from his spot on the tree and prepared to leave. He was a classic vagabond, running from nothing and hiding from the world he had grown to so despise.

No home, no loved ones, just himself and his evil ways.

Caroline's light was still on, but the front door was locked.

_No, leave, _he argued.

But his hand craved the wooden structure, his knuckles begging to rap against the rectangular object and call her down.

She was awake. And a vampire. Someone knocking on her door at two in the morning wouldn't frighten her like it would her neighbours.

The painting was dry. He could give it to her. Slide it on the doormat and run away. He knew she'd destroyed all the other things she'd received from him, what would be the harm in giving her this? It would awaken her mind to the idea of him again. She'd be forced to remember him and all the wonderful things he embodied.

Because she was _that good_. She looked past his wickedness and saw deep in his soul. Perhaps giving her the painting, the painting that turned out so wonderful, would somehow make it okay. Would offer him forgiveness.

Before he knew what was happening, the painting was no longer in his hand and his fist was pounding on the door. The noise carried around him like he was in a confined space. It assaulted his delicate and ancient eardrums, jostling his brain around painfully.

His first instinct was to turn and run. He needed to escape before she appeared. But then he heard her feet scurrying down the staircase and heard the clicking of the door unlocking. And then the sound of his blood rushing through his veins got too loud, got so loud that it froze him—he couldn't move.

The door opened, air whooshed out; he was hit with her scent—fear, excitement, sweet berries.

She was there, still wearing nothing but the robe. Her face dropped. Her eyebrows bunched beautifully at the centre of her forehead and she took an immediate step back.

"Klaus?" She breathed almost afraid, but not quite. There _was_ a tremble in her throat, but it wasn't borne out of trepidation. No, it was a thrilled tremble.

He spoke the words that he'd rehearsed so many times before. The same words that once got him on her side—her primal, unrelenting side. He talked gruffly and tightly, with an air of fright and underlying eagerness, watching as her eyes bulged and stared.

This was it, this was how it ended.

"Hello, Caroline."

* * *

**A/N 2: **_Dun, dun, dun! What's gonna happen? _

_First off, sorry if I reused any cliché Klaroline lines. They're all so great and I love using them._

_That line in Saturday Night just breaks me. Especially the way Patrick Stump sings it. It's so true for our guys as well, don't you think? _

_Alright my wonderful audience, next time **we find out what Caroline does now that Klaus has uttered those infamous words that got him in her pants the last time**. I hope you don't dislike cliffhangers. If this can even be considered a cliffhanger. Just know you'll find out soon enough._

_Oh, and this fic is inching its way to one hundred follows and that's plain mind-blowing! Thank you all for your support :)_

_5.5 down, 4.5 to go! If my math is correct. . ._

_'Til next time,_

_-LoveIsATemple_


	7. Back For More (pt two)

**A/N 1: **_Yo, I am back with part two! And I'm nervous about this. Extremely nervous. I have to warn you: this is an M-rated chapter and it's still kinda angsty. _

_Don't be afraid of leaving me a review! It would be much appreciated :)_

_We're one away from one hundred follows. Thank you so much to everyone who's read this and enjoyed it and I hope this chapter is up to par with the rest. It was a bitch to write for some reason._

_All mistakes, cheesiness, and angst are mine. But you all should know that by now._

_Okay, here we go! Enjoy. _

* * *

**"She's got your number a****nd you've got her scent,**

**she left it on your collar, **

**b****ut you don't know where she went.**

**It's the ghost of a good time y****ou carry around**

**A little artificial, like the confidence you found."**

**Saturday Night Again | Patrick Stump**

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**Drabble #6 (of 10) | Back For More pt. two**

Her body was motionless and he was certain she'd stopped breathing somewhere between saying his name and him uttering hello. He should probably worry about that, but she didn't need to breathe, so he let the small factor slide by him without care.

Music played upstairs, the faint chords of a once familiar song exciting him more than it should.

Darkened eyes watched him and he suddenly felt uncomfortable with the attention focused on him.

He didn't like the tables being turned; he disliked being the one glared at. He could do it to her all he liked, simply because she never knew about it, but the way her baby blue's studied him intently, noticing everything, made him squirm.

"What are you doing here?" She asked finally, her voice the softest of whispers.

It sent the same bubbles of desire through his veins and he fought the urge to shiver.

Klaus couldn't give her an answer; he didn't know what he was doing there. The idea to knock on her door was stupid and rash. But then again, he'd always been stupid and rash. Brilliantly stupid and rash.

He held no power to speak, which angered him greatly. He was the king of witty remarks and one-liners. Where were his magical words now?

_Swallowed up by the blonde vampire in front of you, probably, _he told himself.

Luckily, Klaus didn't have to come up with some lame coverup. His brain would not be forced to decide between "oh, I was just in the neighbourhood," and "funny you should mention that, I've been stalking you for years now."

After her initial shock floated away, he saw her face cool and set into a relaxed state.

He stood in his place, unmoving and silent. His breath caught when she stepped outside, the light pattering of her feet jerking his hands into fists so as to restrain himself from running for her.

She stared at him for two undead heartbeats of uncomfortable silence.

And then, almost begrudgingly, while his curled fists squeezed the blood away from his fingers, Caroline grabbed his stubble-covered cheeks and cemented their mouths together.

She kissed him. _She kissed him again. _It was all her—he was thinking of changing her name to _instigator._

"Wait, wait," he said, pressing his hands to her shoulders and pushing her away so their eyes could meet, surprised at his own trepidation.

Her breath hit his face like cocaine and he inhaled until he saw stars.

"Are you sure?" He asked, his throat closing with horrid emotion.

Anger, hatred, lust.

Klaus didn't get a vocal answer.

He got her head bobbing forward and taking him hostage as a response.

Not that he was complaining.

Through all the chaos of tongues and hands she mumbled in an invitation inside. They stumbled over the threshold, him holding her like a lifeline and her pulling the clothes off his back.

The door slammed closed and he jumped at the noise, but didn't separate from his golden goddess.

He kicked his shoes off and lifted his arms so she could rip his shirt away. He heard it land somewhere far, far away; somewhere only the living could reach.

"I missed you," she said lowly, so low he wasn't sure he heard right, but then she said again, "I missed you."

And then she kissed him, long and suffocating, and whispered, "I hate that I missed you."

His head pounded, his brain unprepared for the admission, but his dimples still showed, his stubble sticking to her cheeks.

There was a jackhammer drumming against his skull, and every time her lips slapped his, the noise got unbearably loud. He was too drunk on her to care, though. Too high and lost in the sensation of her ripping the skin of his chest with her fingernails to remember that nearly ten years had gone since their last meeting.

She had a boyfriend, right?

He couldn't recall.

She definitely didn't kiss like she had a boyfriend.

She kissed like it was going out of style. Like she wanted to forget everything but him. Like she'd only just discovered the joys of locking lips with someone else, of sucking and biting until moans and groans were all that could be heard.

All he could think was how sweet she tasted. How much he wished, prayed, that this was not another one of his cruel dreams.

Their eyes were shut, their other senses overloading on touches and noises and neediness.

Blood spilled as she tore at his lips, the scent of the stuff dizzying his already fuzzed mind.

Her tongue lapped at the copper liquid dribbling down his chin.

It washed them in animalistic colours.

It sent the remainder of his blood down, down, down to where want controlled his movements. He was hard, painfully so, and needed to relieve the discomfort soon.

With vampiric speed he slammed her body so roughly against the wall that the house shook, and started running his hands everywhere on her.

She submitted, letting him control their movements.

He enjoyed it, being in control. It felt safer—even if he didn't feel anything close to safe with Caroline unbuttoning his jeans with her long, cold fingers.

Soon enough, she'd reminded him of her own strength and switched their positions, trapping him in a web of limbs and forgotten secrets against the opposite wall.

His head dropped back and hit the brick, lights flashing in his eyes as Caroline's mouth left hot, slobbery kisses on his neck, her tongue painting a wet picture on the dancing veins pressed against his skin.

There was a familiar salacious tinge to the searing lips and the way they moved up his neck and nipped roughly at his mouth.

His bare chest roughed her clothed one—begging for more skin—and he tugged lightly on the tie of her robe, admiring blindly the quick ease in which it billowed down around their feet.

Caroline gasped, a gorgeous sound that stabbed straight through his ribs like a stake, as his hands roamed the skin he'd craved for much too long.

Never had he agonisingly hungered for a woman like he did Caroline Forbes. This—them—was all too surreal.

The thought frightened him, so he forgot it and focused instead on the small jolts her hips gave whenever he hit a sensitive spot on her chest.

His deft fingers knew her breasts well despite only ever exploring them once before.

He twirled his hot tongue around her nipples, leaving her lips to lather the swells of flesh with saliva.

He loved the small noises she made above him and barely noticed when she yanked at his hair and pushed his face further into her chest.

Satisfied with his work, smelling her arousal clear as day, he moved back to kiss her lips heatedly, smiling into the violent attack and trying to ignore how badly he needed her.

She panted in his mouth, letting her own hands reach further down his body until they buried themselves in his pants.

Now it was his turn to whimper.

Not much shorter than him, she was able to wrench his jeans down and free his erection without having to part the kiss.

"I have a bedroom," she moaned against his lips, her hands grappling with his shoulders while he unceremoniously untangled his toes from his jeans and lifted her up.

Legs encircled his waist, want smothered his pelvis. Caroline, ever the tease.

He nearly dropped her several times on his way up the stairs, her kisses and bites and jolting hips steadily becoming unbearably erotic.

"Sweetheart, I need to see where I'm going," he muttered between the assault on his mouth.

"Why do I have a feeling you would know where to go in this house blindfolded?" She retorted angrily, sinking her teeth into his shoulder.

He bit back a cry, rolling his eyes at the sudden pain radiating on his skin.

He deserved that. She knew now that he'd been watching her. Probably knew it the minute she opened the door.

The small detail hadn't stopped her from jumping him, though, so he assumed he wasn't completely on her bad side.

Still, she guided him with small instructions until they landed on a warm, well-used mattress.

Nerves uncharacteristically overcrowded his mind and he couldn't quite remember what was supposed to happen next.

"Klaus," Caroline mewled desperately when he ran a mindless hand up her thigh.

_Right, _he thought, _that's what I'm supposed to do. _

She was wet, but he wanted to make her quake.

Leaning over her, Klaus kissed her nose, cheeks, and lips to distract her from thinking too much. To distract himself from thinking too much.

This was happening, he needed to remind himself. It was happening and it was happening fast and zealously and hungrily.

Her hands were moving all over his back, tracing an outline of the tattoo drilled into the skin of his back.

She lifted herself using her elbows and forced his lips off her face.

Caroline observed him with a look of contentment, her hand gliding up to his neck and rifling through his hair. She brought her head forward and kissed the base of his throat, pinching the skin lightly with her teeth.

He hissed as a wave of pleasure washed over him whilst he separated her legs, lifting them at the knees either side of him, preparing her—and himself—for the inevitable.

A choked groan escaped his throat when her hand caressed his erection and he knew exactly what she was asking him, but was trying to prolong it for as long as he possibly could.

"Klaus," she whispered in his ear, "take me."

The order was there, plain and simple. She was telling him what to do and he had to do it. Because he was not the alpha here. He never had been.

"I've wanted this for too long," he grumbled, mildly unaware that he was speaking out loud.

"Klaus," she repeated sternly—breathlessly. He looked at her through his eyelashes. She was breathtaking underneath him. Her cheeks were rosy and her lips parted in a small smile. Blue eyes blinked at him as sweat stuck her hair to her face like glue. He adored her. "Take me."

The part of him that was thick and pulsing ached for her. It needed her. He needed her.

So he took her.

He grabbed himself with his right hand and grabbed her with the other.

Gliding up and down her folds, he made sure she was ready by locking their eyes. Her eyes bugged out of her head as he teased her, but the slight nod gave him all the indication he needed and he dipped inside.

They let out a mutual groan, both their heads falling forward.

Their breathing laboured, eyes watching where he steadily disappeared into her, inch by inch.

Her face contorted in a mixture of pleasure and pain as he slipped deeper. She looked on the verge of either exploding or yelling at him with the way her eyebrows scrunched over her nose.

She moaned beneath him, one of her hands tugging his back, urging him to move quicker. Her legs tightened around his waist, bringing his whole body down to hers, their eyes not once straying from the other's.

He sped up his movements, desperate for more friction as their bodies slid together with sweat and arousal.

Tightness surrounded him everywhere, chaining him to her, not leaving any room for escape.

"God," she called, her eyes closing momentarily before shooting open.

Knowing she was close, because he'd memorised the way she writhed when she was getting ready to collapse, he opted for a change in position. He twisted around, popping out for just a second, and guiding her body so she sat up on top of him, moving her heated centre down over him.

Looking at her this way, sweaty and vulnerable and shocked, plagued him, so he gripped her hips painfully and started ushering her down and up.

He gasped, unable to control the many noises currently trilling out his mouth. She smiled above him coyly, knowing she was the cause for his lapse in restraint.

"You have to leave before morning," she panted between the loud slaps of their grating skin, her eyes watching him too intently.

"I promise," he groaned, moving her quicker and trying to ignore the pinch in his gut at the reminder that this was not his life. This was a one time thing.

Hell, he wasn't even sure this was real.

Her hair framed her face angelically and he wondered how on earth anyone could look so much like a heavenly creature when bouncing unrelentingly over a demon such as himself. He would never deserve her goodness. Animals like him didn't get girls like her.

But for now, with some song screaming at them in the background, telling them everything was going to be all right, he could make-believe that this was all real; that he could stay until morning and that he could look at her without feeling the weight of a thousand deaths.

"Klaus," she whispered.

His eyes shot to hers, having been lost somewhere else.

The blues of her irises never looked more like the ocean than they did now. Like vast, bottomless pits he would forever be lost inside.

"I'm close," she said, but he already knew.

Her walls had been contracting around him for some time, but he took initiative and pressed his thumb to the sensitive bundle of nerves of her sex, loving the shuddered breath he received in return.

Slamming her hands on his chest, her fingernails popped beneath his skin as she struggled to maintain her self-control.

Blood pooled as she detached her claws, tangling itself with the fine hairs on his skin, smearing against him like paint.

Caroline brought her fingers to her mouth and sucked the thick, red substance between her lips, successfully bringing him one step closer to release.

Amidst all the erotic bloodsucking and the sly smirks and the toxic puffs of breath, Caroline grumbled something that was quickly accompanied by the spasms of her orgasm.

Her toes curled and her eyes shut and her mouth dropped open.

He came shortly after her with his own grunts and probably embarrassing facial expressions as ecstasy coursed through him like blood.

Their bodies remained attached, neither of them having the energy to move.

He still had her by the hips, but she'd stopped moving. He almost said it then; the three hellish words burning the tip of his tongue. But he didn't mean it—couldn't mean it—so he held his breath until the moment passed.

She stood up, successfully releasing him from his personalised prison, and bent her knees so she was crouching next to him.

Sex lingered in the air, the heady scent wafting into his nostrils, burning his lungs.

Her wonton eyes bored into his long-dead soul as she leaned down and kissed him with venomous lips, poisoning his bloodstream yet again with an impassioned tongue battle.

The muscle sliced his mouth like a sword, but he got off on the hurt.

Letting him go, she buried herself under the covers of her bed, motioning for him to join her. Not one to disobey Caroline Forbes, he threw away the voice that told him he needed to leave in favour of lying beside this beautiful woman for just one more minute as they came down from their high.

Sitting up against the head of her bed, Klaus raised his eyebrows and smiled playfully. Caroline frowned at him from her position and fixed her hair, smoothing the various fly aways and getting herself comfortable.

"What?" She asked confidently, like it hadn't been ten years since they last saw each other.

His smile widened at her boldness.

"Can't I just be happy, Caroline?" He retorted, folding his arms behind his head and peering at her through content slits.

"That's not a happy smile. That's an 'I've won' smile. What did you win, Klaus?"

A stinging resonated through his chest and he dropped his smile, returning to his face the infamous scowl.

"An evening in paradise, I suppose," he mumbled, looking around the room.

There was a small television against the opposite wall and various photographs littered the surfaces. He recognised a few of her friends, but some people were strangers. Yet another indication that she'd moved on.

Caroline's room was bigger than the one she had back in Mystic Falls, but he wouldn't consider it a great size. Her queen bed overflowed with fluffy pillows decorated in evil fringe and he wondered what the allure to such objects truly was.

Females, he guessed.

"Where's your rat?" He asked after the silence stretched too long.

She narrowed her eyes at him and he smirked, her annoyance pleasing him greatly.

"She's not a rat. And she's probably in the laundry room getting my clothes dirty."

"It looks like a rat. She didn't bark when I came inside," he mentioned.

Caroline rolled her eyes gorgeously.

"Well, she _is _a rat terrior," she defended. "She's not meant to be an attack dog."

"Clearly," Klaus murmured under his breath, earning himself another death glare.

He barked a laugh at Caroline's face and absently started tracing circles on the inside of her arm.

When he realised what he was doing, he was tempted to stop, but Caroline didn't say anything and there were goosebumps on both their arms.

He kept doing it, writing silly things and serious things on her skin, hoping some of it would eventually imprint on her.

"This is new."

He pointed to a tattoo on her hip. It was bathed in scratches. His scratches.

She bit her lip and nodded carefully.

"_Sweet dreams are made of this,_" he read, not really noticing the cringing Caroline next to him. "Eurythmics?"

He gave her a questioning look and she replied by smiling embarrassedly.

"It was a stupid bet. One I made with Stefan a few years back. There was something about trying to beat him up some stupid volcano in Hawaii and I lost. This was my punishment. In my defence, I was much drunker than him."

Klaus immersed his thoughts in images of her gang from back home, trying to imagine her and Stefan Salvatore racing up a volcanic mountain. Caroline, happy and running free. Stefan, knowing she had no chance.

He smiled again.

"Did they choose the words too?"

He lifted his hand from her arm and outlined the lyrics, lowly humming the tune, refusing the part of him that wanted to yell to Caroline that this was one of his favourite songs.

"No," she said shortly.

He waited for her to say more.

She sighed and turned on her side, trapping his hand under her weight. He didn't dare pull away.

"It had to be song lyrics, that was part of the bet, so I wanted to choose wisely. None of that Katy Perry shit that I could write in my sleep," she buzzed, her body giggling with excitement. "Sweet Dreams was one of my favourite songs growing up. It's about a desire to have a fulfilling life. I'm a vampire that gets to live forever, provided I don't accidentally land on a stake, and it seemed like a good idea at the time."

There was more she wanted to say—he'd missed her rambles—but she held her tongue.

"I like it," he insisted.

She turned on her back again, freeing his now numb hand.

"You smell nice," she said suddenly, not looking at him.

He blinked in surprise, but chuckled all the same.

"I smell like you, love," he informed her warmly.

"That must be it," she joked, a tired air hitting her.

Silence surrounded them like a blanket.

"Why," he began delicately, breaking the carefully crafted stillness, anger simmering deep within his belly. Caroline shifted to look at him. "Why did you get rid of all the things I gave you?"

He held his breath as he waited for her reply. An array of emotions cast over her features: everything from shock to pure annoyance.

She opened her mouth to speak and he had the sudden urge to run and hide.

"Because," she said softly, her voice quivering, "because I felt guilty. Everyone was making me feel guilty. And I didn't like it, so I took it out on the thing they were attacking me for: you," she explained, dangerously low.

"Stupid, right? I was stupid, very typically stupid. But it happened and that's not really something that can change."

Klaus didn't reply yet again, too enraptured with her excuse to properly formulate a response. She'd gotten rid of the picture because her "friends" were digging their dirty paws where they didn't belong.

If he cared enough he might mull over the many ways he could murder them all savagely.

"There's another picture waiting on your doorstep for whenever you want to see it," he told her, refusing to look at her as he spoke.

"I won't ask how you were able to paint me," she said sardonically, blowing the fringe out of her eyes.

"I wouldn't tell you anyway, Caroline."

A yawn captured her attention for a moment and she closed her eyes soon after. She was still awake, though. Her collected breathing and random vocalisations told him that much.

He didn't take his eyes off her as they continued their conversation, feeling it was safe if she didn't actually know he was carefully studying her.

They didn't talk about anymore of the heavy stuff. They weren't in the mood for it.

_He _wasn't in the mood for it.

For the first time in a long time, he finally felt somewhat happy and he wasn't about to ruin it by delving into the past or asking where her boy toy was and if he would mind that his girlfriend just fucked another man.

When she fell asleep, he stayed awake, afraid to close his eyes. But eventually the day and all its confusing glory got to him and he slowly let his eyelids droop until the room went black.

* * *

He left the house before she woke up.

January air hit his face in slaps, biting his pale cheeks raw.

Klaus listened for Caroline. He heard her awaken as he stood plenty of feet away from her home. She jumped down her steps and quickly opened the front door he'd recently closed.

A safe distance away, Klaus saw Caroline bend down and retrieve the slip of paper lying on her doorstep, but she went inside before he caught her reaction.

So he walked away, knowing that soon enough he'd be back in the tree by her window. And maybe next time he'd make sure she noticed him.

* * *

**"So, bartender fill me up,**

**'Cause I'm so sick of being la la la loved."**

* * *

**A/N 2:** _Let us all remember that Klaus has been suffering from a severe case of loneliness and that's why he's a bit OOC in this. And no offence to Katy Perry fans. Honest.__  
_

_Next time . . . **Tyler finds out another way. Oh no! (it'll be much shorter than most of these. Maybe even shorter than the first part of this.)**_

_So, what did y'all think? Was it written okay? Too emotional? Too emotionless? Not enough fluff? Not enough drama? _

_I don't know why I decided to make this one M-rated. It just came to me like this. Anyway, please feel free to review. It would please me greatly. And I'm sorry if you hated it. I know I kind of slid over the destroying of the picture part, but it will actually come up clearer in another one-shot for this series. Be patient, young grasshopper. _

_The song that I alluded to [not "Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)"] is "Everything Will be Alright" by The Killers. Great song. Great album, actually. I think it's one of my favourite debut's of all time. _

_Okay, that's it for me until next week. I hope I wrote this well enough for your tastes and I hope you'll tune in next Friday for a less dramatic instalment. _

_You're wonderful and I love you all, thanks for making this worth it. _

_Six down, four to go._

_-LoveIsATemple_


	8. Tyler

**A/N 1:** _Hello again. We're back with a very short instalment. This next guy is in 2nd person present tense, which is a bit weird, but I wanted a challenge. So this one and the next one are going to be written like this. _

_Thanks for the love with the last one, it definitely made me smile. We hit over a hundred follows! I can't believe that._

_I hope you can all keep an open mind for this one as well and don't be afraid to tell me what you thought when you're done. _

_Mistakes are all mine. Please enjoy._

* * *

**"And I believe a curse,**

**Holds me in her arms.**

**And the truth of the matter,**

**Is it's all over you."**

**Truth of the Matter | Dashboard Confessional**

* * *

**Drabble #7 (of 10) | Tyler**

He stumbles back, not really listening but not able to unhear everything that's just been said to him, spluttered at him. Caroline's speaking, weeping, spewing guilty words at him, and all he can do is stand there, shocked. He wants her to stop, to shut up, to stop telling him all these horrible things, but she won't close her mouth; won't let the bleeding stop.

_Klaus;_ the word surrounds him, hurting him. _I slept with Klaus. _

She's got tears running down her cheeks, melting the makeup placed so perfectly on her face. They look like blood from where he's looking, like razor blades tearing her skin.

Everything's red—the sky, the grass, Caroline.

She takes a step towards him. It's unstable and unclear and she wobbles greatly. Her hand goes out to take his arm, but he finds his legs and moves away. He can't deal with her right now. She's betrayed him, done the one thing he'll never be able to look past.

_Please_, she screams, her voice breaking like the branches swirling around them.

_Please, Tyler_, she asks.

What's the question? What does she want?

_I'm sorry_.

He doesn't believe her, not even with the gutting pain written on her once beautiful face. There's something running through him, adrenaline or maybe it's hatred, that fuels his words. He spits at her, coating her with his poisonous saliva, his corrosive language.

_Shut up!_ he yells, breaking her even more. He watches, is forced to watch, her crumble. Her bones turn to liquid and she spills on the grassy ground in a heap of surrender.

_Why?_ He shouts at her as she tries to calm herself down. He doesn't want her to stop crying though. He's sick and twisted and wants her to feel pain, wants her to feel the guilt, the acid. She's torn and on the verge of a mental breakdown and he's happy about it. If he can be happy about one thing, it's that she's suffering for her sins.

Blonde hair spills on the grassy ground, but everything's red, isn't it? She's got a strawberry tint to her, he could eat her.

_I don't know,_ she answers, but it comes out blubbery and wet.

_Bullshit!_ he tells her.

He's sure only dogs can hear him now, but Caroline, his Caroline, his girl, his hope and his rock, gets up and slaps him across the cheek.

The pain feels good so he eggs her on, begs her to do it again by tantalising her.

_Did it feel good? _he asks_. Did he make you come? Did you call his name? Did he take you to Heaven and back? _

Another slap.

He laughs, a cruel noise that sounds so sinister, so unlike him. She's unlocked this feral side of him, this animalistic part that's been chained his whole life. He's riding on the waves of evil.

_And you loved it, didn't you?_ he teases, so evil, so sinister.

Another slap.

_He made you feel wanted and special. Because you're the only one for him right? You're the only one that can make the biggest baddest vampire in the whole entire world_ feel._ And you get off on that. _

Another slap, one so hard and so fuelled by a hatred he'll never be able to touch that he's thrown to the ground.

_You don't get to preach to me, Tyler_, she warns him, standing over his body, red-looking but dry faced. No more tears, like she's been washed in Johnson and Johnson baby shampoo.

And then she's gone, whisked off by the wind.

He lets out a rueful laugh, startling the remaining birds in the trees. He watches their red wings fly away into the dark night, watches the sharp breeze alter their direction.

Immediately, he wants to run too, tear through his clothes, bend his bones until they snap, and growl until his throat bleeds.

The need to change, to shift into his beastly form, is too overwhelming.

He wants to go to New Orleans, find Klaus, the fucking bastard, tell him off, rip him to pieces. Ask him if it was worth it, to give her the night of her dreams.

* * *

He recognises where he is. It's too bright and nothing's red anymore. Now everything's too clear, too sharp. The animals are too happy and he's too angry.

He smells him. _Him. _He's nearby, alone.

He can smell her on him.

No, not really. His mind is tricking him.

It's painful, it hurts.

But he swears, he can taste her in the air. Her, sweet and beautiful and too good. An angel among them, sent from above to save him. But not only him, it appears.

He knows though. She's just like the rest of them. No angel. Just a wolf overwhelmed by thick, disgusting, wiry wool.

He pads on heavy feet through the woods, crunching leaves and crushing twigs. He's trying to get Klaus's attention, he needs the other hybrid, the one who controlled him for so long, to know he's there. He needs him to quiver, to feel the anger and hatred and turmoil rippling off his skin.

He sees him now, standing by a random tree. He looks like he owns the world and it burns the blood in Tyler's veins.

He snaps one final stick, watches as the splinters fly every which way.

Klaus turns to him, a snarl lifting one side of his stubbornly handsome face.

This is what he has to compete with.

He can't. She may have chosen him some time ago, but now she has this, this king, to worship her and love her and hate her.

Klaus is in front of him before he can react and thrusts him against a tree. Bark shatters around his head and he feels a splitting pain pulse through his skull. He groans as Klaus's hold on his throat tightens.

_Tyler._ Klaus says, fiery and eerily calm. _To what do I owe the pleasure?_

* * *

**A/N 2: **_It's not lazy writing, I promise. I want to leave it like this. _

_Next time . . . **Putting a new spin on 5x13. **Since this one and the next one are both quite short, you'll get the next chapter sooner rather than later, but you'll also get a new update next Friday. So, two in one week. Yay. **  
**_

_We're getting close to the end, guys. It's kind of sad. But I've got a few bonus chapters, so don't worry. _

_Tell me what you thought, please! I'd love to know. I'm not sure how this one will be taken. _

_Stay amazing, you wonderful people and I will see (but not really) you sometime in the middle of next week._

_Seven down, three to go!_

_-LoveIsATemple_


	9. Loud Voices

**A/N: **_Okay, this was supposed to come out yesterday, but I ended up having to nanny four kids all day and didn't get a chance to publish. Also, I kind of lied about a double update this week. I apparently have to go on vacation this weekend to a place where there's absolutely no internet and no room for a laptop in my suitcase. But I'll try to get the next one out as soon as humanly possible. _

_Thanks so, so much for all the support :) You're all too kind and amazing. _

_To remind you, this drabbley/oneshot deals with **why Caroline shredded Klaus' picture in 5x13. And the answer may shock you. Or maybe it won't. I guess we'll find out.**_

_Please review when you're done so my ego can grow and grow and grow. _

_Because of how rushed this update is, I only got to look over it twice. Mistakes are definitely all mine this time, sorry. _

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**"So, tell me why we're talking**

**When we dance so good****."**

**Dance So Good | Wakey!Wakey!**

* * *

**Drabble #8 (of 10) | Loud Voices**

The voices are too loud. She can't turn them off. They all say the same things, over and over again, rolling around in her mind like thunder, cracking her skull, poking through her eardrums.

_How could you? _

_What were you thinking? _

_He's evil, Caroline. _

_He killed my MOM!_

Nothing helps. No amount of pacing or screaming or feeling guilty rids her head of the accusations, the tortured wails of her friends.

What _was_ she thinking? What made her snap? What transpired between her and the baddest of the bad that suddenly had her thinking it was perfectly fine to throw herself at him?

She was sick and tired of lying, that's what. Her body had been worked up to the point where she couldn't turn away; could no longer ignore the want, the need, the aching, blinding, feral greed. He awakened something in her, and so she did the only logical thing. She pounced.

But now, here she is, suffering for her severe lapse in judgement.

"Caroline Forbes, what the hell are you doing here?"

Caroline lifts her head and sees the wrong Salvatore brother at the door, his black hair hanging low over his eyes as he peers dangerously at her.

She frowns and tightens her jacket around her waist, hoping to somehow protect herself from his wide-eyed glare. "I'm looking for Stefan," she says, irked, peering over Damon's shoulder.

The taller man stands up straighter, blocking her view. "He's not here right now," his words are vicious, his eyes ablaze.

Caroline backs away, one step two steps three steps. "Do you know when he'll be back?"

"I'll tell him you stopped by." He sounds final, like he doesn't want to keep talking to her. She doesn't appreciate him at the best of times, but she's in no mood for his entitlement tonight.

"Let me in. I know he's here," she demands, dropping her hands by her sides and gripping the ends of her jacket.

Damon smirks, and all she can think is it's not the right face, not the right shape of lips.

"Come on, Barbie. Would I lie to you?" He asks with a wave of his eyebrows.

"Yes."

The vampire sneers and stalks up to her. She should move, get out of the way, but she's stubborn, so she stays still and holds his eyes as he towers over her.

"Well, I'm not lying tonight. He's out. As in, he's not here."

Caroline lets her shoulders slump, all her energy washing out of her. She needs to see Stefan, to talk to him, to spill her guts.

"I'm sure I can fill your Stefan needs," he lulls, tilting his head to one side and offering her a pair of puppy dog eyes. Not the right shade of blue, not the right colour eyelashes.

Caroline smiles tightly, her lips threatening to split. "No thanks."

"Aw, give me a break. I'm just as good a therapist as my brooding brother," he tries to convince her. And she thinks, for a second, that he's right. He's been through similar situations; some where he was the person being told off and others where he was the reason someone else got told off. He knows what she's feeling, but if the look on his face tells her anything, it's that he's not willing to _understand. _

"I'd rather die all over again, Damon." And she means it. She doesn't want to be chided again, doesn't want the people who are supposed to support her be the ones telling her how awful she is.

Damon smiles, his eyebrows moving to his hairline. "You made one bad choice," he reminds her. "It's not like you're marrying the guy and running off to the wilds of Louisiana."

"You want me to talk to you?" She asks skeptically, trying to fathom the idea that maybe she has no other choice.

He scoffs. "God no, but if it'll loosen those knots I see throbbing in your shoulders then I'm all . . . ears."

The need to punch him is too overwhelming. Her hand, still in the shape of a fist, unclasps from her jacket and nearly meets his chin, but he's older and faster and has her hands behind her back before she can blink. Hot breath beats on her skin and she wiggles, trying to shake him off, but he just laughs, mocking and cruel.

"Try that again and I'll snap your neck," he warns, his lips brushing her ear. Not the right texture, not the right scent.

"Get off me!" She squeals, the claustrophobic sensation worming its way through her.

Damon relents, dropping her arms and flashing in front of her again. "The offer still stands," he says lightly, like he didn't just threaten to temporarily kill her.

She stares at him, at the way his arms are casually folded across his chest, the way his smirk doesn't quite reach the level of taunting it could.

Caroline takes a breath, and resigns herself.

"Fine," she spits, moving past Damon and into the Salvatore home.

* * *

He pours her some fancy drink from some fancy bottle, handing it to her despite her insistence that she doesn't need it.

"It'll help you open up," he whispers suggestively.

She bites back the urge to try to smack him again. Perhaps she'd be more successful this time. But no, he wants to talk, so they'll talk.

Caroline sips her drink disapprovingly and takes a seat on one of the plush couches, crossing her left leg over her right at the knee and watching as Damon sits in front of her on the other sofa. He swirls the drink in his hand and smoothly gulps it all back, making a satisfied gasping noise when he finishes.

"So, Caroline. Come to spill all your dirty secrets?" He smiles brightly, but there's a hidden scowl flaming by his lips.

"I came to talk to Stefan," she sighs, curling a hand through her hair and slumping back on the sofa, not caring how unladylike the movement is. She's beyond caring about most things at the moment.

"Keep up, Blondie. He's not here. You're stuck with me." He sounds angry all of a sudden and Caroline shoots him a look of disdain.

"Why are you mad? What do you have to be mad at me about?" She asks, her eyebrows pinned at the centre of her forehead. If she keeps at it, she's going to wind up more wrinkles than she can count.

"Why am I mad?" He throws back, his knuckles whitening as he tightens the grip he has on his glass. "I'm mad because you did something really stupid. You're supposed to be the smart one!" He's shouting now, moving his free hand with enthusiasm. "You're supposed to be the distraction, you're not supposed to be distracted!"

She stands up suddenly, acidic anger unearthing itself inside her, and walks in front of Damon, not remembering if she put her drink down or if she's about to crush it in her fist. "Oh my fucking God, would you shut up! I know what I did, okay? I know how fucking stupid it was. It's not like I've suddenly thrown all my inhibitions out the door. And how dare you, Damon Salvatore, tell me that I'm stupid! You're the one that always acts before you think. But the minute someone else does it, someone _like me _who's 'supposed to be' _smart__, _you throw the blame away! Give it a rest, okay? I'm done with this _bullshit_," she finishes with a loud growl, realising now that she's still got her glass in her hand and impulsively throws the remaining liquid in the raven-haired boy's face.

He sputters and wipes his eyes with a loud cackle. Caroline gives him her best death glare and makes a movement to leave, but Damon's vice grip on her wrist keeps her in place.

"What?" She hisses, venom spewing from her saliva.

Damon shakes his head vehemently and Caroline wonders if maybe he's gone insane.

"I'm proud of you," he says sarcastically, releasing his hold on her wrist.

She pulls away from him and stares, confused.

"You obviously needed to get that out," he continues, referring to her outburst.

"Still don't get it," she admits after a moment of silence.

He frowns and sighs, fiddling with the wet patch on his black t-shirt. "You were worked up about the whole 'I slept with the big bad hybrid' thing and I, being the _great _friend that I am, poked and prodded until you snapped."

"So, what? You said all that horrible stuff to me just so I'd shout back?"

The blue-eyed beast, still not the right shade of blue, still not the right monster, nods his head passively. "Don't mention it," he smiles, flirtatiously batting his eyelashes.

Caroline stumbles back a bit and tries to wrap her poor head around what's just happened. This man, this man no less evil than Klaus himself, wants to _help _her?

"Why are you doing this?"

He groans, an annoyed noise that rumbles through Caroline's ribs. "Why am I doing what?"

"Helping me?"

"Can't I just do something nice without people thinking I have ulterior motives?" He questions, eyes widening and smirk falling, tumbling into a place of misplaced anger.

"Ha, I'd hardly call this nice. Besides, you don't like me," she presses, folding her arms and tapping her foot.

"Look, princess, I may not be your biggest fan, and I may _hate_ that bastard you decided to dirty dance with even more than I dislike you, but I also kind of need our little group to stick together at the moment. We've got bigger things on our hands than your silly little escapades with the devil."

Shock passes through the blonde's veins and she lets out the tiniest whimper. Damon rolls his eyes, but she doesn't pay attention. How could it be that the last person she'd ever expect to make her feel better is actually making her feel better?

This—this guy in front of her now looking at her with pity—is the same person who compelled her when she was a human, drank her blood without her consent, teased her and tore her and broke her. And now he's trying to fix it all, trying to kiss her wounds with sour lips.

"Thank you," she says quietly. Damon's head shifts and he eyes her with mistrust. "For helping me. For not thinking I'm some horrible, evil thing."

He throws his head back and laughs mockingly. "I'm hardly one to judge, dear."

Caroline goes and sits back in her spot, crossing her legs like a pretzel. "But still," she insists.

"But still," he agrees. "Now, all we have to do is convince the others that you're terribly sorry about what happened. That you hate Klaus with all your might and never ever plan on sleeping with him again."

Coughing in surprise and embarrassment, Caroline stares daggers at Damon, wishing for an instant she could actually shoot daggers from her eyes. And then embed them deep into his heart.

"What?" She chokes.

"You know," he says cryptically, "we need them to trust you again. So, you'll lie and say it was a mistake and you don't care about him and it'll never happen again." He speaks so lightly, so airy, like it's the easiest thing to do.

But it should be easy, shouldn't it? To persuade people, her friends, that she doesn't care about Klaus?

"How am I supposed to do that?" She asks, because she's not sure she can. Something deep and sinister inside of her doesn't even want to try, doesn't want to even think about _not _caring for the hybrid.

"I get it," Damon assures her. "You do actually like him. I think we all get that."

His emphatic insistence makes her squirm. "I don't like him."

"You do like him, Caroline. But you see, I don't give a fuck. You can like whoever you want. I don't care. But the others, excluding my wonderfully understanding brother, do care. They judge you for your taste in . . . _men_," he mutters with a sharp twist of his lips. Caroline giggles loosely at the way he says 'men' and waits for him to continue. "And in order to get us all back in the swing of things, you'll need to drill it into their heads that you're done with Klaus. Even if you aren't."

"But I—"

Damon holds up a hand, squashing her sentence midway out her mouth. "I don't care if you _can't like Klaus_. It's no secret that you do. It's painfully obvious. But that's not the point here. The point is, lie. Pretend."

Caroline sighs angrily. "It's not that easy," she says, not minding that she's vaguely admitting to Damon Salvatore that she does, in fact, like Klaus. "They've been giving me all these looks. You didn't hear the way Tyler screamed at me, see the look on his face. I've betrayed them all."

"Ugh! They'll get over it eventually. And if not, you _really _need to find better friends." The words sound funny coming from him, but he has a point. Caroline's beginning to understand that, and the thought hurts her chest. "If you want them to shut up, don't give them anything to talk about. You're a good liar, Caroline Forbes. You know how to make it believable. I mean, I only just started suspecting that maybe you're not a natural blonde."

She has to laugh at that. If she doesn't laugh, she'll cry, and Damon's doing a good job of making her want to do both.

"Tell me how to convince them, then," she orders helplessly, burying her face in her hands.

"It _is_ easy," he says. Caroline startles, his voice is in her ear. Not the right accent, not the right timbre. She looks to her right and sees he's moved from his original spot so he's instead sitting next to her. "Just get rid of all the incriminating evidence."

* * *

**A/N 2: **_Totally never would have happened, but hey, artistic license. And I don't know when it would have occurred in the episode, but we'll just use our imaginations. We're clever people like that._

_Review if you wanna, I won't hold it against you if you don't. _

_Thanks for reading and I hope you'll come back for the next chapter. Which will be **Klaroline remembers their time in the woods. **Such fun!_

_Oh my goodness, eight down, two to go! _

_See ya next time!_

_-LoveIsATemple_


	10. Hail to One Hundred

**A/N: **_So apparently as soon as humanly possible means more than a week, but I have my reasons. They're all boring and sad, though. Like, my friends' just announced they're separating after having been married for five years, and_ House _just got put on Netflix instant streaming. _

_Thank you so incredibly very much to each and every single one of you. You all brighten my dark days and make my parents wonder why on earth their daughter looks like she's about to throw up from excitement. _

_This is the penultimate chapter, guys. Now, and I'm being serious here (because seriousness is a big part of fan fiction), but the next chapter is **Klaus breaks his promise** and I have two possible scenarios: one angsty, one carefree and funny (believe it or not, but I can be funny. I'm British for crying out loud! I was bred on humour and tea. And apparently stereotypes). Please, please, please, (even if you hated this entire thing and are just waiting for the next instalment) tell me which you'd prefer. **Funny or Angsty**. I've got both planned out, but I need your input for this one. I want to make people happy._

_Remember, all mistakes are mine, I love you all, and please review telling me which option you want more. Oh, and this is definitely rated **M**. **Klaroline remembers their steamy first time. And it's a continuation of the first chapter "In the Dark." Have fun.**_

* * *

**"Oh, we stood there, **

**awkward and youthful, we tangled;**

**a piece of my soul escaped.**

**Oh, we are restless and tired of s****leeping with giants, **

**a modern mankind with their egos of fire, and it seems like**

**it's been a lifetime, a lifetime we've waited for.**

**A simple question kid, 'are you with me or not at all?'"**

**Sleeping With Giants (Lifetime) | The Academy Is . . .**

* * *

**Drabble #9 (of 10) | Hail to One Hundred**

Someone was talking to her. She could hear their voice whirling around in her head and she lazily opened her eyes, shifting slightly to figure out where the noise was coming from. Light streamed in from the hotel window, sending shots of energy into her veins as she continued looking for the source of the sound. Her eyes landed on a figure sitting at the end of the bed with crossed legs and a scowl.

"I told you not to move," he said, obviously annoyed.

Caroline grinned tiredly, moving her hands to rub at her eyes, feeling the crumbling sleep free her eyelashes. When she finished her stretching routine, she sat up and spotted Klaus still frowning in her direction, sketchpad in his lap and a graphite pencil twirling between his fingers.

"I was asleep," she defended, her sleepy voice removing the unhappy look from his face and replacing it with a dimpled smirk. "Sorry I couldn't carry out your demands in the midst of my deep slumber."

She rotated her head to one side and looked out the open window, pretending not to notice when Klaus scooted next to her. A soft breeze rustled through the trees outside and into the room, and Caroline was forced to take in the scent. Paris smelled fresh, it smelled sweet. Like sugar and love and happy memories. And Klaus.

He was breathing on her, watching her intently as she intently watched the outdoors, spying the world spinning around them.

It was getting harder to ignore him.

His presence was something she'd never quite get used to, but now she didn't have to worry about people judging her for her apparent sins against humanity. This wasn't a dream or a sick fantasy plaguing her ailing mind. She no longer _had _to ignore him.

"You could make it up to me," he whispered gruffly, sending a sharp shiver down her spine.

Caroline turned cautiously and narrowed her eyes at him, loving the darkness taking over the blue of his irises. "Or, you could make it up to me?" She suggested, nipping his clean-shaven cheek with broken lips.

His eyes slammed shut at the contact and she felt a light static shock her lips. They really did create sparks.

"Why would I have to make it up to you?" He asked, opening one eye carefully.

A giggle escaped her mouth and danced around his face. She saw him inhale as he opened his other eye to stare at her. The look he gave startled her. It always did. Ever since she'd swallowed her pride, travelled to where she knew he was hiding with a suitcase in hand, and asking, begging really, for him to take her away.

She remembered it like it was yesterday, when in reality it had been a good ten years. But time meant nothing to an immortal. Either way, she recalled stumbling up the steps to his place in Louisiana, banging on the door as the winds raged outside, as the sky sputtered rain and lightning; calling his name when no one showed to let her in; deciding that knocking was useless and just barging inside; whooshing all around the place, darting in and out the decadent rooms until she spotted him standing at an easel, wearing a paint-covered shirt and a shocked expression.

Neither of them had dared move, but she had watched the emotions beat him like a mugger looking for something good. Pain and anger, frustration and bewilderment, love and adoration. They were all there, just for her. He'd dropped his paintbrush, sending spurts of yellow onto the floor. Simultaneously, they looked back at the painting. She was only half-surprised to see herself staring back, but her heart still threatened to break. Threatened like it even had a choice. It didn't.

Without thinking, she'd flashed over to where he stood frozen and not nearly as confident as she'd expected. She'd imagined doing this for forty years, barging into his life, but none of those day dreams included him alone, and none included his starstruck eyes.

_Take me away,_ she'd whined, putting her hands on his face, smothering her thumbs under his eyes as his tear ducts started overflowing. He still said nothing, made no move to truly acknowledge her presence. A voice in the back of her mind had wondered where everyone was. Rebekah, Elijah, _Haley_? None of them were there, it was as if he'd been abandoned. Like a young boy thrown into the dark dungeon of his room by angry parents too tired and too annoyed to bother fixing the problem.

When he finally did move it was a sudden, frightening thing. He'd clutched to her wrists and wrenched them off his face and asked, in a voice too quiet for the biggest, baddest hybrid, the most immortal being, _Are you really here? Is it really you? _

She'd wheezed out a _yes_ and watched caution overtake his features.

_I don't believe you, _he'd spat, gripping her flesh tighter, digging his fingernails into the veins on the inside of her wrists.

_It's me, I swear._

_Prove it._

_How?_

_Kiss me._

_Kiss you?_

_Kiss—_

She hadn't let him finish, cutting him off mid-sentence and sealing their lips together. A million years could have passed, wars could have been won and lost around them, and they wouldn't have noticed.

They let go of each other and she saw his smile. It was small and afraid.

_Where do you want to go? _He'd asked.

She had grinned with all her teeth, and sighed, _Anywhere._

"Caroline," Klaus murmured, stealing her away from her memories. She looked at him guiltily. "Why would I have to make it up to you?" He asked again.

"Because," she stated. "It's my birthday and you woke me up before eight. Not acceptable."

"Mm," he agreed. "But it's not every day a girl turns one hundred. I want you to enjoy the experience as much as possible."

He placed a finger under her chin and forced her head up. She complied, staring deep into his eyes, flicking her gaze between them hurriedly, like she was waiting for them to close and never open again.

"I would enjoy it more if you'd let me sleep," she pouted.

Klaus laughed, another thing she'd never get used to. "You're a vampire, love. You don't need sleep."

Nodding her head, she creeped closer to him. His face went out of focus as her lips parted.

"But do you know what I do need?" She flirted.

Klaus gulped. "What?" He asked breathlessly.

"Food."

Before she'd even managed to sound the heavy 'D' at the end of her single word, Klaus disappeared from the room, abandoning her and his sketch. The door slammed shut as he ran to fulfil her needs and she flashed to the window, catching sight of a tall figure blurring across the square.

* * *

They had been literally everywhere in the world. There was no piece of land, no underwater kingdom that the two had not seen and explored.

Caroline used to think of herself as a homebody. If it wasn't Mystic Falls, it was Washington D.C. But after Klaus had showed up at the movie theatre sixty years ago, she'd wanted nothing more than to escape her confined life. What was it he told her, that there was a whole world outside, just waiting for her to experience it? Something like that.

He'd started them off small by taking her around the United States and Canada, but soon enough she was rooting for aeroplanes and chunnels and she knew he couldn't say no to her.

Caroline loved all the places they went, but Paris was definitely her favourite.

When she'd mentioned the week before that she was approaching her hundredth birthday, she immediately knew where he'd be taking her.

One reason she appreciated Paris more than anywhere else was the cuisine. Not the people, of course, they had blood banks for that. The real food; the crepes, the breads, the cheeses. Paris had it best, and Klaus knew such things, so when he returned moments later with a bag full of pastries pinched between his lips and a couple cups of steaming coffee in hand, Caroline got up, dressed only in Klaus' t-shirt from the previous day, and walked over to him, happy to have her Paris breakfast.

He waved his free hand at her and mumbled something incomprehensible. Caroline smiled at his puckered eyebrows, taking the bag from his mouth.

"Sit back on the bed," he ordered when he got his lips free.

Scoffing, Caroline stayed put. "And what if I don't want to?" She challenged.

"I have ways of making you do things," he informed her with a quirked eyebrow and lifted lip. God, he looked sexy when he was trying to intimidate her. This was her life; travelling around the world with a man who could never die and who seemed pretty intent on loving her for the rest of his miserable days.

"It'll be difficult to make me do anything when you've got coffee in your hands," she reminded him, pointing to the cups in their cardboard holder.

In a flash of wild colour, Klaus dropped the coffee on the small table by the door before dashing right back to where she was standing. "Cups can easily be placed elsewhere."

"I'm quaking in fear," she whispered mockingly, raising her eyebrows for emphasis.

His smirk grew until his entire face was blown up in a smile. "Good."

He was fast, she knew, but her brain still forced a squeal out of her lungs when Klaus gathered her up in his arms and plopped her on the bed. His body hung over hers, his breath hitting her face harshly. Silence filled the room, like the open window was pouring in muteness instead of air.

Klaus erupted in a roll of laughter, moving to one side and staring down at Caroline. She glowered up at him, unimpressed by his seemingly unwarranted giggle-fest.

"What?" She asked bluntly.

The hybrid shook his head and sighed, lifting his forearm so his elbow dug firmly in the mattress, and rested his temple on his fist. "Nothing," he tried, but Caroline's eyes were slits and she had him wrapped around her finger. "Okay," he relented, "I was just remembering."

"That's never a good sign," she warned, placing a gentle hand on one side of his face where his cheek dipped into a dimple.

"How is it not a good sign?" He asked in mock offence.

Caroline continued smoothing circles on his cheek. "You're over a thousand years old. There are too many things you could be remembering. Battles, friends, hearts ripped from chests, _old lovers _. . ." she trailed off with a noncommittal shrug of her shoulders.

"Old lovers? Are you afraid of them?" He asked, running his hand down her thigh to the underside of her knee.

He could probably sense, smell even, the way her blood immediately started moving faster at his touch, but she didn't falter. "There are so many. You tell me if I should fear them."

Frowning, Klaus squeezed her skin, causing her unnecessary breath to hitch. "What have I told you before, love, about all these past women?" His voice was gruff and possessive. A long time ago these qualities in his tone would have turned her off, but now they managed to magnify her want tenfold.

"Remind me again," she said in a last ditch effort to qualm her greedy sex drive.

"They are nothing compared to you. You are like filtered spring water to a thirsty man," he told her enthusiastically. "A banquet fit for the entire world to a man growing weak and brittle from hunger. A rich flow of crimson blood to a lustful vampire. You are mine, do not forget that."

The apex between her legs was burning with liquid fire, liquid need, as Klaus' fingers danced up the inside of her thigh.

"Us," Klaus murmured suddenly, tracing odd circles and words into her skin, tattooing her with his short cropped fingernails.

"What?" She huffed through gritted teeth, not enjoying the satisfied smirk on his face. But it lit up his eyes, and those were the same eyes that used to look at her and her old friends with such pain and sadness, so she couldn't really complain.

"I was remembering us," he explained. "Do you remember the first time, sweetheart?"

"Which first time?" She asked, though she had a feeling she knew what he was referring to, but his hand crept just that much closer to her heat and her mind was beginning to go fuzzy and she wasn't so sure she could trust her brain at the moment.

"Is there another first time I'm unaware of?" He teased, moving his fingers to her other leg.

She let out an unrelenting moan and tried to gather her wits. "I like to think we had two first times."

"Oh?" He questioned, the minty word slapping against her ear.

"Yes," she hissed as he pinched her skin. "Time number one back in Mystic Falls eight decades ago. Then D.C. fifty years ago."

"So not three first times?" He asked, his voice low and husky. His lips brushed her ears as his fingers twirled like ghosts relearning an old dance in front of her centre. "Because I recall the time in New Orleans a mere decade ago being rather . . ." he paused, for dramatic effect if nothing else. Caroline would kill him after he relented and helped her finish. " . . . ravenous."

"Klaus." The need present in her own voice sounded too whiny, but then again, it was her birthday. He wasn't allowed to tease her like this.

"What darling?" He smirked at her innocently when she ceased her movements on his face and instead clutched his shoulders. Her nails were sharper and lathered in green nail polish, it hurt more to get stabbed by them, but he kept his stoic look.

She whimpered uncaringly as he dragged up farther. A sticky substance spread on her skin and she could smell her own arousal, but he had yet to actually _touch her_. And it was slowly killing her.

Imagine that; being told that you're going to live forever provided no one stabs you in the heart with a stake, surviving through a thousand different supernatural occurrences, managing to not get stabbed in the heart with a stake for a hundred years, and yet somehow wind up dying during dangerous foreplay.

What a way to go.

But all Caroline's thoughts halted when a hot finger pressed against her fleshy heat. Her back arched off the bed and she didn't see Klaus' egotistical grin, the feeling of him rubbing smooth circles over her wetness too intense and far too good. She was suddenly glad she hadn't gotten a chance to put her underwear on.

"You never answered me," he said quickly, fervently. He sounded like he was getting ready to fight. It was his game voice, the one he used when he was confronting the various men and women of the world who wanted him dead. The same voice that he hushed to her when he touched her.

Caroline held no capacity to speak as he circled his finger around her entrance tantalisingly. All she could accomplish was a string of growls and moans. It didn't matter, she knew he wouldn't give in yet. He didn't want her to just come. He wanted her to explode.

"Do you remember our first time? Our real first time?" Klaus asked, adding a second finger to the mix, sliding around slick skin. Her brain understood the words, but her mouth wouldn't move, so she decided a nod would have to suffice.

"Good," he soothed, his face warm as it hovered above her heavy-lidded eyes. "I remember it well," he continued, his fingers still managing to swirl up a storm in her lower belly. "Banging against trees, you shouting my name as I ran my hands across your breasts." She closed her eyes and listened, the friction sparking between her thighs shooting tingles up and down her body as his sexy accent told her all.

"I remember how you practically tore through my clothes. I remember how I literally tore through yours until we were panting and groaning and begging. Do you remember, Caroline," the way he lulled her name made her hips jerk and she heard the smile in his voice as he spoke again, "when I pushed two fingers to your pink flesh, when I slid them inside of you?" He did so now, finally giving up his torturous fight and sinking his fingers, well coated with her arousal, deep inside.

Caroline moaned and lifted off the bed, turning her face to look at him. Klaus was watching her with lustful eyes as his fingers pumped in and out of her, a determined tint to his smirk.

"You cried out then, loud and clear. People's ears must have been on fire, quite like you and I. Do you remember," he said gruffly, his hard length pressing into her leg, "when I grabbed you and twisted your legs around my waist and thrust your back to another tree? You were high on endorphins by that time, too elated to feel any sort of pain from the rough bark stabbing into your skin."

His wrist jerked faster, his thumb finding her clit and furiously rubbing at the nub until Caroline's bones turned to ice cream and her brain fell to jelly. Her face contorted in pleasure as he worked her in a smooth, fast pattern.

Parts of her wondered if maybe they were playing a game. That one day he'd wake up with her strapped to him and realise that he, in fact, did not want this life. That he'd decide to leave her, abandon her. Sometimes that thought was so overwhelming that she'd push away until he brought her back with words of love and eternal devotion. Saying that they were an undying flame; a trick candle on the cake of a naive ten-year-old, staying strong no matter how many winds came their way.

Other times she worried that sex wouldn't be as enjoyable after a time. But those thoughts always killed themselves whenever he'd be remotely near her.

She was alive with his touch, right now and always.

Everything felt so amazingly good. Sweat broke out on her skin, her nipples rubbed against the fabric of his shirt. Her head swam with thoughts, with wanting to explain in detail how he made her feel. But her tongue was lead and her mouth was too busy opening and closing like she was fish on dry land, begging to be thrown back into the water.

"Do you remember how you dug your fingernails into my shoulders much like you're doing now? Or how immediately after splitting my flesh with your nails you looked at me with the eyes of a sinner condemned to live their life in eternal, painful pleasure? Because I remember that look," he informed her greedily, pulling out of her in languid strokes as she contracted loosely around his fingers. She wanted to kiss him, but she didn't want him to stop talking. "It was the look that told me you felt the same way. So I gave in then, didn't I, love?" Caroline quivered beneath him.

"You're so tight," he observed, but it didn't stop him from quickening his pace as he continued his story, and it definitely _did _send another jolt of electric desire through her blood and all the way to her centre. "I gave in then, yes." He agreed with himself, dropping his head from its perch on his fist and bringing his lips to her jaw, nibbling his way in hot, open-mouthed, tongue-filled kisses along her throat.

Her mind went completely blank. She could only feel his fingers and his mouth and his twisted love.

"I warned you, I said there was no going back. I said to you that this was it, this was you telling me that you felt the same way, that you _loved _me back," Klaus grumbled erotically into her ear. She didn't often hear him say the word 'love' and even in the midst of his orgasm-inducing digits caressing her inner walls, her dead heart found a way to constrict with emotion. She moved her head to the side a bit more and captured his lips in a shameless kiss, deepening their connection with tongues and mouths and minty breath.

"And then I took the plunge, so to speak," he mumbled against her lips. She giggled briefly, caught up by his playful choice of words. Trust him to always go the funny route when things were getting too sentimental. "And then I fucked you."

She would have scolded him, would have yelled at him about using that word, but just as he said it, just as his voice carried to her ears and hit her mushed brain, his fingers curled inside of her one last time, hitting something rugged and sending her thoughts reeling.

"Come, Caroline," he called as her hips started moving frantically, searching for a release. Digging her fingers into his curly-haired scalp, she listened as he whimpered sorely. With a strangled mewl, Caroline grabbed his lips again as she rode on his fingers, coming with a cry muffled only by their glued mouths.

She trembled with residual aftershocks, her legs shuddering and her clit throbbing. He rolled over on his back and slipped his fingers out one final time. Caroline turned away for a brief moment, knowing Klaus was only going to lap at his fingers with his thick tongue. She'd seen him do a lot of things, but that was one she didn't exactly enjoy witnessing.

Rolling onto her stomach, Caroline draped an arm over Klaus' belly, carefully slipping her hand under the fabric of his shirt until it was placed directly where his heart used to beat.

He shifted under her, settling one palm on her back and the other over her own hand.

She rested her head on his chest, listening as he breathed contentedly and watching the world transform outside the hotel room window.

Paris smelled sweet again and she caught the scent of the food and coffee they'd ignored so cruelly. But this was better than food. This was even better than coffee. This was home, and home was Klaus.

"I remember. I remember it all," she said.

He nodded against her messy hair, his cheek catching fly aways. "Happy birthday, Caroline."

* * *

**"Are we wasting time, or is it wasting us?**

**It's been a lifetime waiting for now, now.**

**Well, you've got to find a way**

**Before you fold in."**

* * *

**A/N 2: **_Do you get the title? Caroline's turning one hundred and it's also remembering when they had sex . . . in the hundredth episode of TVD. I'm a clever girl. And I know that I'm horrible at writing these M-rated scenes, but I am trying to challenge myself more. Maybe it's paying off? Not yet? No?_

_Regarding the lyrics, I just love that song. And that entire album. Sadly, the band is no longer together and William Beckett and the other boys are off doing their own thing, but buy _Santi _if you get the time. It's their best record, in my personal opinion. Which, I understand, means nothing, but still. _

_Alrighty then, don't forget to tell me what you think and vote on what the next chapter should be emotion-wise! It would help me out so much. Perhaps that's cheating, but ah well. As Doctor House always says, "everybody lies." _

_Til next time, ladies and gents,_

_-LoveIsATemple_


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